Delivery
by Catsitta
Summary: Cloud Strife never made it to Midgar to become a SOLDIER. In fact, he disappeared completely. On the same day he vanished, a mysterious stranger begins delivering cryptic messages and bizarre packages to those bound by a destiny that they didn't even know they shared. To matters weirder, only the recipients seem to see the delivery boy! Very AU. Implied Time Travel.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **

This is my personal daily drabble challenge. My objective? To write every day, no matter how much or how little. My 31 day project is 5 sections strong each with 6 installments, plus an Epilogue. Please read and enjoy!

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except an overactive imagination and a computer.

**Delivery**

**By Catsitta**

**1. The delivery boy**

It is an inexplicable event. No one knew it could happen, nor could they ever dream to predict the outcome. The dominoes that once fell in place fell askew. A future wrought with pain, death and strife is forever altered.

All because, on the day that fourteen year old Cloud Strife left for Midgar, the boy died. At least, that is what is assumed. He disappeared without a trace before the ship that left the clear waters of Costa del Sol reached Junon's murky harbor. Inconsequential, a small town nobody, Cloud is quickly forgotten by all but a few. His supposed death not even significant enough to warrant a letter.

His mother would wonder why her little boy never called home.

His childhood crush would search the newspapers for a face that would never appear.

They would never hear word.

The very sequence of events that once led to the fall of a great man into madness, and the creation of unsuspecting heroes out of those haunted by ghosts, is thrown apart. It is as if the universe had accidentally deleted the most crucial player in the future of the planet Gaia!

Nothing happens on accident. All events, crucial or insignificant, happen for a reason. It is the very nature of fate.

That is why when Cloud Strife disappeared—those bound by a shared destiny began to dream. Or, as some would put it, hallucinate. A stranger with haunted, glowing eyes graced them and he left behind a trail of letters and packages…deliveries. Very little is ever said and he is impossible to follow, much less catch, even when those whom sought answers hastily made pursuit.

It is as if he did not exist except in their minds.

However, could an imaginary delivery boy mend a broken future by unraveling the past?

**Word Count: **305

**.x.**

**2. The flower girl**

In the dark, dirty confines of Midgar exists much turmoil. Above the infamous Plate is a fabulous city, bright with technology that outshines the conflict of its inhabitants. Businessmen swarm about like ants, scrambling through the streets in order to reach the train station. An overtone of tension belies to the rumors running amok...then again, there are always rumors.

Below the Plate, where gossip is darker and dirtier than the squalor that the slum dwellers live in, the rumors that make the businessmen tense, cause true disruption. They have no reason to trust President ShinRa or anything attached to his name. It is because of him that they live without access to sunlight, clean water or air. To hear about another mishap being sloppily covered up and fed to the general public as a minor problem, simply made their blood boil.

Every person living in Midgar is subjugated. Some didn't realized it yet, their wallets were too fat with Gil. Others knew it from the day ShinRa rose to power, when he took over the collection of villages that once laid in Midgar's place and turned it into the industrious capital of power and corruption. But no matter one's status, they all hear the rumors. They all know the filthy truth. They all know that they were helpless to do a thing to stop it.

It is why the terrorist faction, AVALANCHE, had gained ground. No one wants to intervene. The poor support them and the rich are too cowardly to face them. With the war in Wutai yet to come to a true close, many of the troops were deployed, unable to respond to the blatant assaults against ShinRa and those affiliated to him. Midgar is in absolute chaos…

Yet it continued to function.

For some, there is no choice but to continue living, surviving, despite the turmoil. Fear of losing one's life is never part of the equation. Fear, in fact, could never be part of the equation.

This is why, despite the feverish tension of the underplate dwellers, Aerith Gainsborough waves goodbye to her mother and begins her journey to a long ago abandoned church. Danger is a part of life in the slums. At every turn, a monster could pop up and attack or a mugger could attempt an assault. Thus nothing changes for those used to these frequent dangers, especially if the rumors are given no heed.

Why should she be afraid AVALANCHE? They'd personally done her no wrong.

With a girlish smile and a skip to her step, Aerith maneuvers through the worst sectors with practiced ease. Whispers are caught by her ears as she passes by makeshift shelters, but she does not listen. Midgar is a festering wound that needs dealing with, but she is not one to take action. Her purpose is to take care of the only flowers growing in Midgar…the last remaining blooms of natural life amongst a forest of steel and concrete.

It is a simple purpose, but she is satisfied with a simple life.

No need was there to make things complicated. Life would be so much easier if everybody lived in peace and harmony as intended by the planet and its creator, whoever he or she might be. If there was no war, anger or greed, then there could be sunshine and flowers for everyone! Again, a simple thing…a simple wish…a simple dream.

Why couldn't everything be simple?

Aerith arrives at her church, her mind and heart aflutter. How she loves this place. She loves everything about it, from the hole in the roof to the broken floorboards, to the upturned pews. She loves the way the light catches the dust moats as they spiral high into rafters above…She loves her garden. And in this sanctuary, she is at peace.

"Hello," she offers the empty air, her cheerful voice echoing against the walls and vaulted ceiling. Then she giggles, much like a fifteen year old girl is prone to doing, before crouching beside the flowerbed and murmuring adoring nonsense to the white and yellow blooms.

A few minutes later, she rises and begins her daily routine. Weeds are pulled. Soil is overturned and then wet with a dented tin watering can. She soon loses herself in the simplicity of it all, at peace despite the utter chaos of the world around her.

"Miss Aerith Gainsborough?" the flower girl nearly squashes a tender springling when a masculine voice breaks the calm silence. No one bothers her here. Her heart began to race. Had he avoided the Turks that were watching her? Is he a Turk here to steal her away? Forcing her panic away, Aerith stood up, brushing dirt from her striped, blue-and-white sundress.

"Hello?" she found herself saying timidly. Her experience with men is minimal, but she knew from just looking at him that this stranger is dangerous.

He stands a few inches shy of six feet and possesses the broad shoulders and confident stance of a fighter. His black uniform gives him a mysterious edge, as do the tinted goggles he wears over his eyes. What throws her off a little is the unruly mass of blond hair, it seemed unbefitting of a such a lethal looking man. _Perhaps that is why he usually wears a hat_, Aerith found herself thinking, the cap held respectively in the man's right hand her biggest hint.

The man drew closer, but not until after he spent a good minute examining Aerith, making her feel self-conscious about her messy, brunette braid and child-like emerald eyes. How could he make her feel so small with his presence alone?

"This is for you," he eventually says, holding out an envelope. Aerith blinks in surprise.

"You're a delivery boy?" she asks, curious.

"You assumed otherwise?" the blond smiles, as if amused by the thought.

Saying nothing in response, Aerith gingerly accepts the scrap of paper, her gaze unable to be torn away from the stranger. "Who are you?" she questions when the man walks away, and to her surprise, he turns, just for a moment.

The goggles hide from her his eyes, but she could feel their intensity all the same. Aerith wants to believe this man to be a warrior or some kind of famous hero, but what he says halts those presumptions. "I'm just a simple man." And she is but a simple flower girl, living sweet and innocent amongst the corrupting influence of a rotting city. Yet she feels that there is more to him…more to both of them, in that moment.

It is, to say the least, disconcerting.

She is pinned by both confusion and wonder as the mystery man walks away. The roar of a motorcycle can be heard outside, but it is as if she is rooted in place. Her eyes fall upon the envelope in her hands, and aside from her name written on the front, it is blank. No sender. No address. Just her name.

Curious as well as filled with newfound dread, Aerith opens the letter.

Written neatly in black ink are these words alone:

_I will not fail you this time._

**Word Count: **1188

**.x.**

**3. The crimson commander**

Hallucinations were none too uncommon for Genesis Rhapsodos. However, this particular one iced the proverbial cake. Standing in the middle of his war camp, set up strategically a few miles south of the enemy capital, was some kind of mail man. The infamous crimson Commander knew it to be a mere figment of his imagination because no one else in camp paid the irregular looking man any attention.

"Hollander was right," Genesis muttered caustically as he narrowed his eyes and willed the figure to simply disappear. "I'm going insane." But the uniformed man did not waver or shift, rather, he stood steadfast, gazing around at his surroundings with apparent interest. Frustrated, the First Class SOLDIER pulled his attention completely away from the map laid out before him and glared hotly at the hallucination.

The world spun for a moment and almost unbalanced the already feverish Commander. He refrained from clapping his hand onto his wounded shoulder or gripping the table for support. No one needed to know he was wounded. No one needed to know that the minor injury he suffered months ago refused to heal, and instead was festering and rotting away…No one needed to know he was dying, both his body and mind decaying due to his apparently subpar genetics. No one.

He would stand tall and strong until the end—no matter how weak his body became; no matter how much his thoughts scattered.

Suddenly, as if sensing Genesis' burning gaze, the package toting stranger looked him dead in the eyes. Something washed over the volatile SOLDIER, causing him to hesitate and his temper to cool in an instant. He could not see the man's eyes, for they were covered in dark-tinted goggles, but instinct warned him of the reason why a man would hide his eyes. Mako glow. It meant his hallucination was a SOLDIER…but was it someone he knew? Was that why the man wore that ridiculous cap, to hide his identity?

"Why would a figment of my imagination need a disguise?" he found himself asking no one in particular.

"Perhaps it is because he isn't a figment of your imagination." the man offered and Genesis was surprised by both the dry humor lacing his tone as well as the softness of his tenor voice. He sounded almost…haunted. Weary. "First Class Commander Genesis Rhapsodos?"

"I am he."

The imaginary delivery boy hefted a small, cubic box out from beneath his arm,"This is for you." Genesis blinked. His hallucinations were certainly becoming more elaborate. Noting his confused stare, the stranger chuckled softly. "It's not a bomb, I promise. Though I'm afraid it's not a First Edition copy of Loveless either. In fact," he tapped a gloved finger on the red ink printed on the otherwise white wrapping,"it's rather fragile. So do be gentle."

"Who in Gaia's name are you?" Genesis growled, his paranoia rearing its ugly head in an instant. It took no more than a split second to push aside his red, leather trench coat and draw Rapier from his hip sheath. The blade took on a threatening glow as its master's temper flared.

Unimpressed by the display, the black-clad man shrugged,"I'm but a simple man." He then placed the box on the ground and promptly turned on his heel. Genesis gaped at the man's audacity. How dare he turn his back on the second most powerful SOLDIER to ever live!

"Come back here!" he demanded, chasing after the man, brandishing his sword in a crazed manner. But the delivery boy did not even look back. He merely took a sharp left, behind a collection of tents, and when Genesis rounded the corner…he was gone. Completely, and utterly, gone. Dropping his sword hand to his side, the crimson Commander let out a huff of bitter laughter. "You're losing it, Genesis. First you talk to the imaginary man, then you chase him. Real sane…"

"Uh, Commander Rhapsodos?" piped a nervous voice.

He whipped around to see a trembling Third Class standing there, a small box in hand,"Y-you…this belongs to you."

"Give me that!" Genesis snarled, snatching the apparently delicate package away from the grunt. The boy then squeaked and ran off like a frightened mouse. "Pathetic…Now, what do we have here?" He almost dropped he box in surprise. It was the very one that the imaginary man gave him. But…how? Without further ado, he ripped it open, wanting to disprove his strange imaginings as quickly as possible.

Within the box lay two small glass vials filled with a clear liquid, cradled in a soft nest of…feathers? As Genesis combed his fingers through the downy mass, he felt them brush against something…a folded card. Hesitantly, he drew it into the light so that he could read the faded lettering.

And what he read nearly turned more of his auburn hair grey.

_We are all monsters, given the right circumstance. But even monsters deserve a second chance._

**Word Count: **818

**.x.**

**4. The ninja princess**

"I am the awesome ninja Yuffie Kisaragi! Run away or face my super ninja skills."

The tremendous cry did little to intimidate the hulking monster before her. In fact, the creature only lumbered closer, growling deeply at the back of its throat.

Yuffie readied her four-point shuriken. No icky monster was going to stop her on her quest to find materia and take down ShinRa in the name of her country. She was the Princess of Wutai! Levithan guided her heart and hand, and as long as she was the daughter of Emperor Godo, the gods would favor her.

Even if she was only nine years old.

"Okay. You asked for it you big dummy!" she shouted when the enormous, slobbering thing took a swipe in her direction, forcing Yuffie to leap out of the way. Reorienting herself, the gray-eyed girl rooted her stance and threw her weapon with a loud,"Hiya!"

Unfortunately, it bounced off, returning to Yuffie without leaving a scratch on the monster's thick hide. "Uh-oh…I mean…There more where that came from, ugly!" The monster responded with another wide swipe of its claws, catching the girl as she darted out way. Pain lanced through Yuffie's leg and ribs, and blood oozed from the fortunately shallow wounds. "Meanie…Yikes!" She jumped to the ground, narrowly avoiding a second assault, but the impact sent vibrations that seared through her injured half like acid and caused her to let out a pained groan.

Instinctively, the monster pounced.

Yuffie screamed.

But the ripping agony she predicted did not follow. Instead, there was a thick gush of warm blood and…nothing. Yuffie opened the eyes she had clamped shut and found herself face-to-face with a blue-eyed stranger…Her surprise voiced itself despite her best restraint,"Mako eyes…You're a SOLDIER!"

The man shook his head and offered her his hand. Like the rest of him, it was enshrouded in black. Whoever he was, it was obvious he was a uniformed official. "Then what are you, ShinRa dog?" she demanded, refusing his hand and scrambling to her feet. The man remained silent, his eyes like ghost lights in the dappled shadows of the forest,"You know what…I don't care! Gimme your materia and I won't hurt you."

"Miss Yuffie Kisaragi?"

"T-that's my name, now shuddup and…"

"I have a package for you," he told her, motioning towards the motorcycle a few meters away. It was then that Yuffie noticed the sword in his hand, held easily despite its cumbersome size and weight. This man was a warrior. Maybe even an assassin!

"Yeah right, mister. I'm not going to fall for that trick. I'm not stupid! You've been hired to kidnap or kill me."

The stranger laughed humorlessly and adjusted the militaristic cap on his head,"You misunderstand. I'm but a simple delivery boy."

"You? A delivery boy? Then explain the sword."

"It's dangerous on the road." and that was all he said before returning to his bike and unfastening a canvas bag from where it had been hung from the handle bars. Yuffie, brimming with curiosity, followed. "Here."

The "package" was awkward to hold and possessed considerable weight. That, and when she looked closely, there were ShinRa markings. It meant that the man was either lying, and was in the employ of ShinRa, or had just stolen from them and was unloading the goods. Was he some kind of bizarre Robin Hood?

Looking up, she noticed that the delivery boy was already straddling his bike, goggles covering his ethereal eyes. "Good luck," he called, kicking the monstrous vehicle awake and speeding through the thick underbrush as if it were air.

Yuffie considered making pursuit, but her curiosity overcame her impulses. Instead, she lowered herself to the ground and unzipped the canvas bag, revealing the most beautiful craftsmanship she had ever seen in her life. Eyes already wide, she reached in and brushed the delicate looking weapon with her fingertips. "There have to be…eight or ten materia slots in this…." She frowned softly, dropping her hand to trace the name engraved at the weapon's center,"Conformer…"

Boldly, she gripped the shuriken and lifted it up, discovering it to be perfectly balanced. As she gave it a quick spin, Yuffie noticed an envelope tied to one of the points. It was addressed to her and when opened, revealed a message that filled her young heart with newfound courage and pride.

_Take back your country, not with blades but with cunning, by not letting despair turn into complacency. _

**Word Count: **747

**.x.**

**5. The martial artist**

_When the time is right, the key is Sephiroth._

Tifa Lockheart read the note in her hands over and over again. It had been three days since the message had appeared on her piano, and it still made no sense. What made things more confusing, was the rusty key that had been lain beside it…Obviously the key had something to do with the note, but what did either have to do with the silver General?

"The key is Sephiroth?" she shook her head, rolling the hefty piece of metal in her palm. "Key…A tool…something used to unlock something else. Unlock…solve…maybe, like a password? Is the word Sephiroth a password or part of a code?" Tifa closed her fist around the key. "Two keys. When the time is right, I'll need both. But…how will I know? What do they unlock?"

With a sigh, she drew her eyes away from the note and laid them upon the closed hand. Uncurling her fingers she once again examined the key. It was as it was before…"Cloud would know," Tifa murmured. "He was so quiet. He probably enjoyed puzzles…" A small smiled quirked on her lips. "Cloud."

**Word Count: **192

**.x.**

**6. The silver general**

It made no sense. There were no such phenomena as ghosts, yet the only explanation behind a slew of thefts and vandalism was that there was one floating about with a vendetta against ShinRa. The surveillance footage revealed nothing, not even a blip or a glimmer. The Turks found no prints or DNA evidence of an intruder. Yet some of the most powerful weapons manufactured by the company had suddenly gone missing and vast stores of data were corrupted by the very computer that held it secure. He did not even want to figure the physical damage done by this supposed specter…

"General Sephiroth."

He looked up, both hands at his temples in a vain attempt to soothe his aching head. There, standing in the doorway, was a…delivery boy? Sephiroth frowned, no unauthorized persons were allowed on this floor of the building. And this man, this civilian, was certainly not authorized to be here. Just as he was about to snap at the intruder, Sephiroth noticed something. His eyes. Brilliant, ethereal blue eyes. A color only achieved through saturating the body with mako.

"I am a busy man," the silver-haired General forced himself to bark, curiosity keeping him from outright challenging the stranger. "State your business and be gone."

The mako-eyed man did not falter nor flinch. He kept an impenetrably calm demeanor as he opened the leather satchel slung over his shoulder. A second later, he held a fat yellow envelope in hand, Sephiroth's name scrawled on the front. "This is for you, sir." he stated coolly, placing it on Sephiroth's desk without missing a beat.

Whoever this man was, he seemed confident that he would not be caught in his charade.

"What is it?" Sephiroth inquired as he lifted the envelope, not wanting to scare the man off quite yet. If this "delivery boy" was some breed of assassin, he was either very bad at his job or was very good. He had to be careful how he played this; otherwise, there would be trouble. "There is no sender information. No return address. Quite convenient that he or she chose to remain anonymous."

The tiniest of smirks graced the mako-eyed man's lips and he adjusted his cap. Sephiroth caught a brief hint of blond hair as he did so, and there was a flash of metal as the man's long sleeve pulled away from his gloved hand, revealing a strip of his wrist…and the bangle that was secured there.

Certain that he was dealing with someone more dangerous than he appeared, the silver General rose quickly from his seat, both hands planted aggressively on his office desk. The envelope lay beneath one open palm. "Who are you?"

"A simple man," the delivery boy quipped, as if amused by the situation. "That is all." Few people did not cower beneath Sephiroth's powerful gaze, especially when he was clad in full battle regalia (he had to always be armed and ready in case of an emergency). Even fewer had the gall to smile. Less than five ever dared to laugh.

"Who are you…?"

All amusement fled the man's face and he met the fearsome General's eyes with steely determination. "If you are asking my name, I'm afraid that you will be disappointed. I have none." The man dipped his fingers into the front pocket of his uniform jacket,"If you are asking my identity, then I will tell you this. I am no one." He flicked his wrist and a Sephiroth found himself catching the business card thrown in his direction. Again, the mako-eyed man smirked,"However, I do respond to Strife."

Sephrioth crumpled the card and quickly skirted around his desk, but "Strife" proved faster. In a flash, he was out of the door and by the time the silver General reached the doorframe, the man had vanished.

"Is something amiss, General?"

He growled in frustration as the head Turk approached, coffee in hand. Tseng was always popping up where he was neither wanted nor needed.

"Did you see an unauthorized person in the building?"

An elegant brow lifted.

"I encountered an individual in my office a few minutes ago. Male, approximately five feet eight inches tall, slim of build with mako eyes and dressed in a black uniform."

"What exactly did he do to distress you?" Tseng, the insufferable rat that he was, asked between sips of coffee. He did not appear to feel Sephiroth's same urgency.

"An unknown with mako enhancements appears in my office then disappears without a trace, and you expect me not to express some form of frustration? This floor is supposed to be monitored by your men to prevent either from occurring."

"I see…When was the last time you slept, sir?"

"How is that relevant?"

"Do you feel as if you are always being watched or that your life is constantly in danger from some unknown source?"

"I'm a highly ranked military official, of course I feel as if I am always being watched and my life _is _constantly in danger."

"Have you been hearing any voices?"

"Pardon? What exactly are you implying?"

Tseng shrugged,"No one was in your office, General. I am here at the request of the President to evaluate your mental and physical health should your behavior become erratic."

"I am not hearing voices!" Sephiroth found himself snapping a little louder than intended. "Someone was in my office. Look, he even left a card."

The Turk took the crumpled piece of cardstock from the agitated SOLDIER,"_Everything you know as the truth is a lie. But beneath every lie is the truth._" Tseng offered the card back to the silver General,"Interesting motto for a psychiatrist. Good to know you're getting help."

"What?"

"Have a nice day General." Tseng bowed politely before walking away, leaving behind a very ruffled Sephiroth standing in the hallway.

Realizing that the Turk wasn't coming back, he glanced at the card. It said exactly what Tseng claimed. "Dr. Strife…PhD in psychiatric medicine. Specializes in the treatment of both mood and personality disorders." Sephiroth shook his head. Of all the things…

He crushed the card again, banishing his train of thought. He was not crazy. He did not hear voices. And he was not imagining things. As he entered his office, Sephiroth became doubly certain he was not imagining things. There, in the middle of his desk, was that yellow envelope the person under the alias 'Strife' left behind. A light went off in his head. Perhaps more clues could be found within.

Quickly, he unfastened the tiny brad that kept it closed before pouring its contents onto his desk. His eyes widened the moment he spied the label on the first manila folder.

"Project S."

**Word Count: **1120

**.x.**

**A/N: (The cast is set. Now comes the plot. )**


	2. Part 1

**A/N: **

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except an overactive imagination and a computer.

**Delivery**

**By Catsitta**

**7. The first gamble**

Despite having Conformer in hand, Yuffie had played it uncharacteristically safe on her journey home. Something about the ghost-eyed man left her unsettled and part of it was his odd agenda. Having mako in his blood meant he was, or at some point had been, affiliated with ShinRa, but he had saved her life and had encouraged her to save her country. Yeah, she knew the letter had to be from him, as well as the weapon. It didn't take a genius to figure that much out. But "Why?" still echoed in the back of her mind.

Why did he leave ShinRa? Why did he involve her in his plans? Why did he believe in her?

It all smelled really fishy and Yuffie didn't like it. But did she have much of a choice when it came to trusting his motivations? He obviously had a game he was playing, and had the connections to win. She was just a pawn, probably one of many. But why? Why was he playing? What was he attempting to win? Where did she fall on the map of his crazy world?

Her ponderings were broken by the scent of smoke and the faint murmur of voices. Instinctively, she knew that something was amiss. The capital, her home, was just an hour's walk away and if her gut feeling was right, the enemy was the source of the smoke and sounds. How could they have gotten so close?

Seized by panic, the little ninja broke into a run, careless about the racket she was making as the underbrush snapped beneath her feet.

What she saw when she reached the camp startled her.

Men, all clad in uniforms and armed to their teeth, their eyes shimmering with mako, were milling about, creating a sea or red and purple. Their uniforms were dirty, tattered and clinging by threads to the bodies on which they hung. Their faces were worn and haggard, their postures slumped. These weapons of war looked ready to collapse…much like the warriors that fought for Wutai's freedom.

Pity wasn't something she should feel, but Yuffie felt a reluctant tug within her heart.

This war had gone on for too long. Ten years…a lifetime.

"Take back your country, not with blades but with cunning, by not letting despair turn into complacency." she murmured. All around was nothing but despair. Her people were exhausted. ShinRa's people were exhausted. Why must the fighting continue? Was is pride? Greed? Curiosity burned through her. This was her chance to learn the real root of the continued conflict.

With great caution, Yuffie edged deeper into the throng. It took every ounce of her ninja training not to get caught, despite the fact that the men were dozy, but her reward was great. She reached the officer's tent unscathed. Now, all she had to do was sneak a glance at the war orders…

"_All that awaits is a somber morrow, no matter where the winds may blow…"_

Yuffie ducked behind a box overflowing with haphazardly thrown documents and other official papers. She was not alone…Peeking out from her hiding place, the little ninja saw the fearsome crimson Commander, Genesis Rhapsodos, pacing, his eyes closed, fingers twined behind his back. But he did not look like a terrible demon as her people described him. In fact, he looked sick.

Gray streaked his hair and everything about him seemed subdued…faded. Almost as if he had resigned to dying.

_"My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the Goddess." _the SOLDIER paused and dropped his arms to his sides, a wry smile suddenly twisting upon his lips. "_Even if the morrow is barren of promises…nothing shall forestall my return. _Nothing. I will prove to everyone that I am the hero." Genesis reached into his trench coat and removed from it a small, glass vial. He began to laugh bitterly, apparently content to continue speaking to himself,"Am I willing to put my faith in a ghost? After all, what could he possibly have known about Degradation that Hollander does not? There is every possibility that this is a poison. A monster like myself deserves nothing less than death…"

Poison? Was he contemplating suicide?

Yuffie shook her head, confused. Intervening would mean exposing herself and that would possibly lead to death…or worse, the fall of Wutai! She gripped Conformer tightly, guilt and anxiety sinking their teeth in deep. She couldn't stop him. She couldn't save him. She couldn't…

And she didn't.

Before her internal dialogue even began a true debate, Genesis tipped the vial down his throat. A second later, he frowned. "Water?" he muttered. "That's it? He shows up in the middle of my war camp, making me think I'm seeing things, disappears, leaves me a note talking about second chances and…and…" The vial shattered in his hand. "I should have known better. He knows nothing about Degradation. He's just playing you for a fool. H-he…he…Uurg."

Suddenly, the SOLDIER began to stumble, as if his legs could no longer support his weight. He reached out to support himself, but all of his attempts missed by inches, until he at last reached his bed. Genesis clawed at the sheets, his back arched and he tried desperately to remain standing. Then, a shudder ran through the length of his body and he collapsed, his eyes rolling back and his mouth foaming. A heartbeat later, he convulsed violently, before growing eerily still.

Yuffie barely managed not to scream.

It took all of her self-restraint to take the PHS she stole when she first started her venture, and type a message to the one number she knew by heart. A number she stole from a newly promoted SOLDIER Second in order to amuse herself through sending him on wild treasure hunts. Of course, the hunts were always prosperous, and she often took from him the spoils…but this time…

Yuffie took no joy from this message.

TREASURE PRINCESS: Send help now! The red commander has fallen. I think its poison.

She didn't wait for a response; instead, she looked for clues for what the poison might have been and who would have poisoned him. What she found made her heart sink.

It was a little box filled with feathers, another glass vial resting amongst them, with a folded card lying beside it. A card written by the same hand as her own letter. Was the delivery boy actually an assassin?

"He'll be okay. Better than ever, in fact."

Yuffie spun around upon hearing the stranger's voice, but she found herself alone in her enemy's tent.

"He'd better be okay," she muttered, uncertain why exactly she felt that way. Then again, did anyone truly deserve to die?

**Word Count: **1120

**A/N: (The first gamble is made, and that gamble is to trust the word of a stranger. In Genesis' case it is the vials. And Yuffie takes a great risk in contacting a certain Second Class. But only through gambles, can there be second chances. )**

**.x.**

**8. The second chance**

"Genesis…" Sephiroth hadn't known what to expect when he arrived at the war camp. After his good friend Angeal Hewley crashed into his office, a panicked Zack Fair at his heels, he had come to suspect the worst. The whole flight here, the word "poison" echoed in his head. He knew Genesis to be ill, but how far had he fallen that a common poison could confine him to his deathbed?

It was not fair. Gaia! Life was not fair at all.

"Is he going to be okay?" he turned slightly, his attention drawn away by a small voice. She had been there at Genesis' bedside the entire time, oversized shuriken clutched in pale-knuckled hands. Who would have guessed that the Princess of Wutai would be the one to alert someone of the crimson Commander's illness, and then be the only one in camp to care enough to stay by his side until help arrived? According her, no one entered the tent for the past twenty-four hours, nor did the men seem overly distressed by the possibility that their commanding officer was an inch from dying.

Yuffie had been the one at Genesis' side. She had been the one whom attempted to cool his blistering fever and feed him a meager meal of water and rice. In fact, she had even gone through the man's materia collection, found a Heal and cast Poisona in an attempt to cleanse his system. Why she did so, the young girl refused to answer.

"I do not know," Sephiroth murmured,"The toxin used is untraceable, even with magic. I cannot contain it." He sighed and rested a hand on his friend's brow for a moment, before drawing away. "Princess, do you know who did this?"

She worried her bottom lip briefly before offering a reluctant,"Yes."

"Who?"

"Genesis drank the poison from a glass tube. He was acting weird and he seemed upset after he drank it. He said something about it tasting like water…" Yuffie dropped her eyes."Before that, he said something about putting his faith in a ghost. It was all really confusing and then he collapsed. So I checked around his tent for clues…I found a small box with another glass tube…"—she fished a small card from her pocket—"and this note."

Sephiroth took the card and his eyes widened.

"You know him too, huh?" Yuffie shifted uncomfortably.

"Strife did this?" he muttered. "Why would he do this?"

"Strife? Yeah, I think so. I wondered why since he looked like a SOLDIER."

"He's not."

"I…figured that out. Even SOLDIERs can't pass through solid objects like a ghost."

"I knew I wasn't seeing things. I'm not crazy!"

"What did he give you?"

"Pardon?"

Yuffie lifted her shuriken. Sephiroth noticed that it was the weapon that had been stolen from one of the high security, secret facilities a short time ago. Apparently the not-so-imaginary man was a talented thief, one whose crimes he didn't have the time or patience to rectify.

"He gave me…information." Information he had barely had a chance to begin before his world went out of control. The unread documents were tucked away safely in his luggage. "And he made an embarrassment of me in front of a Turk." Sephiroth massaged his temples; he could feel a headache building. "From what I have learned by questioning the men here, Genesis was seen behaving more erratically than usual and even went as far as to chase after some unseen trespasser."

"I wonder if there are others?"

"Others?"

"Yeah, others who might have a clue who 'Strife' is. I mean, you and Genesis have something in common, you're both SOLDIERs. But I'm not. It'd make sense that there would be others…"

"But why attempt to murder Genesis?"

"Maybe it isn't murder," Yuffie offered quietly. "Maybe he's using a poison as a medicine." In response to Sephiroth's glare, she continued,"What? Sorry for trying to be positive. I could throw Conformer at you and demand all of your materia as revenge destroying my home. In fact, I could have stolen all of this rare, mastered materia that's sitting in that trunk over there and been gone waaay before you ever got here. So be nice, Mister Demon."

He arched a brow. There were moments he forgot he was dealing, not only with a child, but the daughter of the enemy leader. They had every excuse to hate each other. Yet here they were, cooperating for the good of one man. "You said there was a second vial?"

Yuffie nodded and retrieved a small box from a table.

Sephiroth took it and removed the vial, thoroughly tempted to smash the cursed thing. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he heard Strife say, though he knew it was only within his mind. So he closed his hand gently around it, uncertain how to proceed.

"Sephiroth? Are you alright?" it was Angeal.

"Yeah, you okay General? Can we come in?" added Zack.

Just as he was about to voice his consent, Genesis began to seize, his body a writhing mess of limbs. Sephiroth hurried to his friend's side, and the two SOLDIERs outside rushed in. Everything felt cramped, hot and chaotic. There were too many bodies in this tent and one of them was deathly ill.

"Genesis!"

The Commander jackknifed up, his eyes flying wide open, spit crawling errantly down his cheek. He was breathing heavily and one hand rose to clutch at his chest…then he began to touch his face, his hair…and then everywhere else. He did not seem to notice the others, not until he shrugged away his coat, pulled off his shirt and peeled stained bandages from his shoulder.

As the soiled cloth fell away and Genesis examined the area of apparent concern, the man began to smile…and laugh. He stroked a fine, pink line that marked his grey-hued skin before collapsing back against the sheets, wearing the brightest smile Sephiroth had ever seen on his face. "Hello friends,"he greeted wearily. "Pray tell the reason for this most unusual meeting. Or did you miss me that much?"

No one in the tent could find their voice.

No one but a certain, apparently invisible delivery boy.

"You are loved," he said. "You are loved."

**Word Count: **1040

**A/N: ( A gamble of faith leads to second chances and new beginnings.)**

**.x.**

**9. The third hero**

It was an odd feeling, to be hailed as a hero. Genesis was too used to being the villain. The man that everyone loved to hate. It was his bitter rivalry with Sephiroth that granted him his renown, rather than his acts of valor. But now, he was a hero too, alongside the silver General and his honorable second-in-command. People chanted his name in the streets, joyful and adoring.

Yet something felt amiss.

But why? Negotiations with Wutai went surprisingly well, likely due to Yuffie's meddling in matters on both sides of the issue. Wutai retained its status as a free nation and in return for open trade, would allow for a single reactor to be built. Genesis' face was plastered all over the situation and he had become the poster boy for the peace movement, much to the amusement of his peers. But the pride he should have felt was dulled by another emotion.

Dread.

There were matters left unfinished and questions left unasked.

Carefully, the red clad Commander navigated through the hallways of the ShinRa building, hoping to clear his head through a nice, long chat with his friends. His body may have healed (another matter that left him unsettled), but his mind was still in shambles. He needed Angeal's calming influence and Sephiroth's dry sensibility. They were the rocks that kept his emotional state rooted in reality.

"Angeal?" he bid, knocking on the younger man's office door. Hearing nothing, he tested the handle and found that it swung right open. "That's odd. He never leaves his office unlocked." Genesis entered the room, his lips pursed with thought, before realizing, very quickly, that something was wrong.

There, propped up in the corner of the room, was Buster Sword. He never went anywhere without it, for the blade represented to Angeal the very essence of honor and dreams. Genesis shook his head, the prophecy entailed by the epic poem Loveless sour upon his lips,"_My friends, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams. No honor remains. The arrow had left the bow of the Goddess. _Angeal…no."

He fled the room, hoping that this was but a misunderstanding. Sephiroth would know where their friend was, he had to. But as he entered the young General's office, Genesis was greeted by an unsettling sight.

Papers were everywhere. Furniture was thrown askew. The obsessively tidy man he knew would never leave his office in such a state!

Almost as if he were afraid that the room would come alive and assault him, Genesis crept further in. His eyes swept over the scattered documents, catching unfamiliar phrases and names. Then, he spotted something glittering amongst the wreckage. "The other vial…why does Sephiroth have it?" he brushed aside the paper that lay over it and picked it up, noting the label on a nearby folder. "And what is Project S?"

Before he could do any further investigating, the security alarm began to blare.

"WARNING! WARNING! BUILDING IS ON LOCKDOWN! ALL AVAILIABLE SOLDIERS REPORT TO FLOOR 58!"

"Floor 58? That's the science department." Genesis realized. "Sephiroth…Angeal…They must be in trouble!"

It was not until he reached the 58th floor that he realized how true that statement was.

Everywhere around him was destruction. Machinery lay in mangled heaps and frightened scientists huddled underneath tables like mice. All around was evidence of a fight…a fight involving a particular sword named Masamune.

Genesis hurried into the depths of the chaos, shoving past the nervous SOLDIERs around him. But what he found once he reached heart of it, surprised him.

There, laying on a gurney, his limbs fasted down by metal bands, was Professor Hojo. Except…it wasn't Professor Hojo. The weasel-faced man was looking particular…purple. And he was snarling insults at the figure looming over him. Sephiroth.

"Stop this idiocy right now, you ungrateful child!"

Sephiroth was impassive, his eyes cold as he lifted an unmarked tube and examined it.

"Honestly, you're an utter fool. Do you think that I would test anything on you that I hadn't tried on myself? Killing my best specimen was certainly not on my agenda." Hojo cackled,"Neither was killing myself. Nothing here will harm me, Sephiroth."

"No, but it will make you suffer," the silver-General pointed out. "I can still feel pain, that implies that you can too."

"Bah! I've been working on a serum to do just that for years. It's almost complete."

"But it is not complete, yet." Sephiroth leaned over the scientist. "Now, before I force it out of you, tell me: Where are they?"

"Who?"

Sephiroth gripped the tube in his hand and began to unscrew the top,"Where is Angeal Hewley?"

"Why would I know where Hollander's reject is?"

The top popped off,"And where is my mother?" He leaned a little closer,"Lucrecia Cresent."

Hojo grinned wildly and began to laugh like a crazed man, causing Sephiroth to scowl.

"Very well," he said, before tipping the contents.

Genesis gasped. Hojo shrieked. And somewhere, someone laughed.

**Word Count: **824

**A/N: (Three friends go into battle, but who will be the hero? Will it be you? Will it be I?)**

**.x.**

**10. The fourth inclusion**

The last thing Aerith expected was to see was a man fall through the roof the church.

"Hello?" she called, standing over the prone form that now lay amongst her flowers. He shifted and groaned, recovering more quickly than a normal man ever would. Instinct told her she was dealing with someone enhanced…a SOLDIER. "Hello?"

Aerith reached down to touch the man, but he was quicker. In a flash of movement, a hand snapped up and gripped her wrist, almost startling her into screaming. The man then stood, his eyes scanning her form as a Sergeant might a raw recruit. "Who…who are you?"

The man did not smile; instead, he pulled her closer,"Is your name Aerith?"

"H-how?"

"Let it be said that a certain delivery boy paid me a short while ago," the SOLDIER whispered, "and in his message he implied that you could offer some assistance in a most sensitive matter."

"Message?"

"Only through a leap of faith can a fallen angel's wings mended," he elaborated. "and the one claimed by the Planet, _Aerith_, found."

"Why do you need my help?"

"A friend of mine is…is most unwell." the man visibly bent with misery. How aged he looked, despite his youth, with gray-streaked hair and ghost pale skin. "Please."

Her mother told her to never trust a SOLDIER, but those mako-blue eyes were desperate. This weary, ragged man was begging for her help. But the question why still nagged at her conscious. And how did the strange, blond delivery boy play a role in all of this chaos?

"I-I can't," Aerith shook her head,"ShinRa…they…"

"They hurt you…" the man finished for her, as if he was well aware of the horrors that haunted her past. "Please, Aerith. No one will touch you while you're under my protection."

"The Turks…"

"Are helping me protect you," he motioned to the askew doors where Tseng stood, feet spread.

"A most interest manner of entrance, Commander Rhapsodos." The Turk offered with no hint of humor.

"It was the fastest way to get here, according to you."

"A suggestion made in jest, I assure you."

"Ha-ha." the 'Commander' said in dry retort before returning his focus to Aerith. "Aerith, I swear upon my honor as a SOLDIER, that no harm will come to you."

"O-okay. I guess I'll help."

"Thank the Goddess!" and with that, Aerith found herself scooped up off of her feet and hauled over a lean, but surprisingly muscular shoulder. Startled, the smacked him with her dainty fists, but he did not seem to notice. Tseng did, apparently, because he quirked a brow. Whoever this man was, he had to be very high ranking for Tseng not to intervene in his almost kidnapping of her.

"Who is your friend that I need to help?" she asked, just before the Commander began to run, his stride long and graceful.

It took a long while for the man to answer, and when he did, his voice was broken with emotion,"My friend…my friend is Sephiroth."

**Word Count: **501

**A/N: (Those bound by fate are finding each other, but the reasons why are obscure. Who could have possibly predicted that they—two soldiers, a princess and a flower girl—would need each other?)**

**.x.**

**11. The fifth act**

He didn't know how to explain it. Then again, was there anything to explain? His life was a lie. He was not whom he believed himself to be. No one was whom he believed them to be…

Sephiroth closed his eyes and flexed bound wrists.

A monster…he was a monster. A monster bred and born to be nothing but a killing machine, his purpose to be that of divine efficiency. The perfect SOLDIER. A monster wearing the guise of the world's hero…a hero manipulated like a cruel marionette. These strings that held him fast were years in the making…A collaboration of minds.

"Ever hear the saying: The truth will set you free?" The silver General snapped opened his eyes. There, standing at the foot of the hospital bed, was Strife, his mako-blue eyes free of any malevolence. Rather, the blond man regarded him with something akin to pity…or guilt. "Sephiroth."

With a gaze as hard as his voice, Sephiroth gave his reply,"Where did you find those files?"

"Find?" Strife quirked his head to the side,"I complied the information myself. Everything that you read is the truth that I filtered from many lies. Hojo wished for you to find those very lies, when your mind was at its most vulnerable, so that you would break…and become the perfect vessel for Jenova. His desire to design a god would ultimately destroy you, and in turn, cause irreparable harm to the Planet."

The delivery boy shrugged, though the gravity of his words was in conflict with his apparent nonchalance,"And I cannot allow that to happen."

Sephiroth frowned. What in Gaia's name was wrong with this man? Who was he? Why did he believe he knew the truth? What if…what if everything he said was the lie? He bowed his head—the thoughts echoing within were overwhelming.

It was then that he felt something warm touch the side of his face. A hand. The silver General glanced up at Strife, whom looked lost…haunted….conflicted. He wore the face of a man that held the weight of the world on his shoulders. A weight that was threatening to crush him at any moment.

"Remember, always, that you are loved Sephiroth." he whispered,"And the love of a few, good friends is more powerful than anything. Even…even death."

"You speak from experience?"

Raw with honesty, Strife answered,"Yes."

"Who are you?"

Strife drew his hand away,"A simple man trying to save the world in the only way he can." He glanced at the doorway, as if hearing something. "Your friend returns…with someone very important to me." The delivery boy walks away and begins to pry open a window,"Take good care of her. And in return, she will take care of you."

Before Sephiroth can ask what was going on and who he was talking about, Genesis burst into the room, a flustered young girl in his arms. She looked a touch frightened, but otherwise no worse for wear. "You are awake!" The silver General glances at the window and finds that it is shut tight and Strife was no longer in sight. "My friend, please tell me that you are feeling…yourself."

"What exactly are you insinuating?"

"After assaulting Hojo, you went utterly insane." Genesis replied, nudging the shy girl before him a little closer. "I had to incapacitate you in order to keep you from murdering the man. As it is, Hojo is in the ICU and ShinRa is throwing a hissy fit over the fact. To top everything off, Strife paid me a visit while the doctors were patching everyone up and essentially told me that the only way to help you is to find her."

"Um…hi?" the girl waved,"I'm Aerith."

"Apparently she can fix whatever is wrong with you."

"Nothing is wrong with me! I'm not crazy!"

"I'm not saying you are," Genesis elaborated. "I'm simply saying that you will be useless in finding Angeal or your mother in your current state."

"You!" he wanted to be angry. He really did. But the energy to do so was not there. Thus he sank back against the bed and shook his head,"You are correct. I need to regain my composure so that I may better engage myself in more important matters than the petty whims of my anger."

"Thank you, my friend."

Aerith chose that moment to pluck something from the sheets, her brows furrowed with confusion,"_My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams. No honor remains. The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess. My soul, corrupted by vengeance hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey in my own salvation and your eternal slumber. Legend shall speak, of sacrifice at world's end…"_

"Loveless, Act IV." Genesis and Sephiroth said in unison, before looking towards each other with curiosity.

"It's a note from Strife…there's more," Aerith continued. "I know how the story ends, the one of the hero and his two friends. One is lost. One is forced to wander. The last, the hero, remains…and he mourns for them. It is his fault that the first friend is dead, and in a way, his fault that the second friend cannot find peace in death. But in a way, it is not his fault at all. But this ending…this final act. It is not how it has to be. Seek your brother in arms and heart where his story began. Repair the damage that has been done before he loses what remains of his humanity."

"Angeal…"

"I am still confused…why am I here?" Aerith asked, placing the note on a nearby table.

"You mean something to Strife," was Sephiroth's reply. "Though he would not elaborate beyond you needing me and I needing you."

She made a strange, wistful expression,"He left me a letter a while ago…it said _I will not fail you this time._ I wonder if this is his way of…not failing me?"

"Perhaps. He is a man of many…complexes."

"No…" Aerith giggled softly, as if to lighten the mood as she went to unbuckle the straps that held Sephiroth's wrists down. "He's very simple, actually. So simple, in fact, that he seems complex. I bet if we knew what his ultimate goal is, all of this mystery stuff wouldn't seem so…strange. All of the pieces would fit together nice and neat."

Genesis chuckled at that, but everyone could feel the tension that had yet to break.

**Word Count: **1065

**A/N: (The final act of Loveless is missing…or perhaps, it never existed at all. Fate is full of diverging paths, all of which lead to a new and unforeseeable future. )**

**.x.**

**12. The sixth sense**

"Just a dream," Tifa gasped, clutching her chest as if it her pounding heart was an anchor to reality. "It was only a dream." However, those words were of little comfort as she curled deeper into the bed sheets. The dream had felt so real—the characters alive. But why would she imagine such terrible things? Sephiroth was a hero! He would never burn down Nibelhiem. And Cloud, the boy was so sweet. There was no reason for him to hold such hatred for his idol in those big, blue eyes.

Ignoring the cold feeling of dread clawing its way into her gut, Tifa turned over and drifted into a reluctant slumber. The dreams were better than before, but just as bizarre. Cloud guided her through the malicious shadows…but he looked older, worn and world weary. And where he led her were places she had never seen before…she saw faces of people she never met. Yet she could feel the connection, the desperation and drive of these strangers.

But before she uttered a word, as if to ask of their importance, the scene changed. She saw a tall, muscular man with short, black hair and eyes that shone with mako. A dark beard, flecked with grey, adorned his broad, proud jaw. The man was obviously a SOLDIER, but he wore no uniform. Rather, he was clad in a loose pair of blue jeans and a ripped T-shirt. And the eyes that should have been bright with confidence were dim…almost gray as he stared up at the moonlit sky above.

He looked so lonely.

Then, as if answering Tifa's unspoken thoughts, four figures rushed his way. She could not see them clearly, for the dream distorted the image, but she knew that these were his friends. One even went as far as to throw his arms around the taller man's waist, clinging to him like a long, lost father.

"There are many paths that fate can take," Cloud said, reminding Tifa of his presence. "One can only hope for the best outcome." The scene fell apart like a glass vase shattering against tile. But Cloud remained. "Make me a promise Tifa."

"A promise?" like the one she made him swear before he left for Midgar?

Cloud nodded,"Promise me you will trust your instincts, no matter what."

"What…?"

"Promise me Tifa," he insisted. "Because when things go from bad to worse, your instincts might be the only thing that will keep you alive."

"I-I…I promise, Cloud."

The blond offer a small smile,"Thank you."

Tifa then opened her eyes. Morning greeted her.

**Word Count: **429

**A/N: (Most say that there are five senses: Touch, Taste, Smell, Sight and Hearing. Then there are those that insist that there is a sixth sense, one a premonition or psychic connection. One could even say it is an awareness of future events, especially those that may prove dangerous. )**

**.x.**


	3. Part 2

**A/N: **

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except an overactive imagination and a computer.

**Delivery**

**By Catsitta**

**13. The fallen hero**

It had all seemed so "right" at the time. Every choice…every dream…every fight. Now, as he stared off into the murky horizon, Zack Fair found himself at loss. A month prior to this moment, his life was normal. He had been a Second Class SOLDIER filled to the brim with hope and dreams, his sole purpose in life driven by the desire to be a hero. But now, looking back, he realized how naive he had been…still was.

How could he have trained beneath Angeal's critical gaze without seeing the strain in those keen eyes? How could he have listened to every story of honor and dreams without hearing their weight? How could he have not noticed how his mentor was fading…crumbling…losing all faith in what he once held as ideal?

It had taken the man's abandonment of ShinRa for anyone to realize something was wrong. And then, once he was found, the damage done could be seen clear as day. How far he had fallen…

"You did not have to come on this mission, Fair."

"Yeah, I did." Zack scratched the back of his head absently, uncertain of how to deal with the onslaught of bitter emotions. "Angeal's my mentor and best friend. When I heard that there was a chance of finding him, then I knew I had to go. I felt it…in my heart, y'know?"

With a sigh of agreement, the esteemed General lowered himself to the ground, appearing like an idol of cool perfection amongst the tangles of uncultured underbrush. How human he seemed as he sat there, chin tilted slightly and his legs folded. It was strange to see the man in anything less than full, military regalia…even stranger without his hair loose and free. But…it was comforting. The plain clothes and ponytail took the sharp edge away from his presence. Softened him. Revealed the elegant man beneath the war machine veneer.

"So what now?"

Sephiroth smiled in response, but it was razor thin and without any joy behind it. Few people could make an expression so slight so unsettling.

"I guess that's a touchy topic, eh?" Zack asked with a nervous laugh.

"Indeed." no further elaboration was offered.

A few tense, uncomfortable minutes later, Zack knew he had to break the silence and the stillness. So he rose to his feet and began doing squats, a habit he formed long before joining the military in order to cope with his ADHD. It did wonders for his ability to focus.

"What exactly are you doing Fair?"

"Thinking."

Sephiroth lifted a brow as if that were the most surprising thing he had ever heard,"Care to explain?"

"Just thinking…"—grunt—"…'bout Angeal…"—grunt—"…and how it…"—grunt—"…involves ShinRa."

Neither said anything more on the matter. It was obviously a subject Sephiroth did not wish to breech in the companionship of a stranger. And Zack wasn't one to talk just to hear himself speak (despite popular belief). It wasn't until the misfit of their little group of five came over that the tension in the air was broken.

Aerith did not shyly approach nor did she quietly stutter. No, after spending a week in the company of the SOLDIERs, she seemed to have adapted and was quick to speak her mind or act upon her trivial whims. It was nice to see her confidently smiling instead of withering like a trodden flower. After perhaps a second or two of standing, watching Zack do squats, she spoke up,"It's time for dinner."

Zack grinned. Sephiroth stood. And the three of them watched each other with some degree of expectance and curiosity. "Angeal…is he?" Aerith had been working with Genesis to help tend the ill SOLDIER. The man was physically well, at first glance, but something was very wrong…almost too far gone inside his head.

"We'll know in the morning."

"Why the morning?"

She gingerly lifted an empty glass vial, revealing to the two men that the "poison" that Genesis drank had been used on Angeal. "I…I have a good feeling. Trust me."

Zack nodded. Despite how hopeless he felt at the moment, with every illusion about ShinRa he had broken, he knew that he still needed to have faith. Good things happen to those whom wait.

**Word Count: **707

**.x.**

**14. The president's son**

At eighteen years of age, Rufus ShinRa had accomplished more than most men in their entire lives. With a sharp mind and his father's money, the world was his oyster, freshly harvested and served to him upon a golden platter. Now, all there was left to do was to secure the fruits of his labor…and to do that, the elder ShinRa, his father, had to fall.

Already, he had the man's death planned. There were a dozen different ways for his end to come about, and each had their benefits and downfalls. However, there was one option he favored above the rest. Assassination. And not just by some man, no, but by Elfe of AVALANCHE. The woman was so blind to his subtle manipulations. All she saw was the gil in her account and the clearance to destroy what she pleased. She would shake the confidence the citizens of Midgar had in the ShinRa name, but her arrogance would be her downfall. She would cut the head from the beast, and her own throat in the same fell swoop.

It was such a beautiful plan. Not only would Rufus be able to pick up all of the pieces and make his plans come to fruition, but the pawns in his game would be the ones who would make it possible. No one would trust AVALANCHE once he came into office. They would be picked off one by one, the Turks that had been held at bay for so long set loose on their heels. And the people would cheer and praise the good name of ShinRa for his avenging the unfortunate death of his father…such a great, foolish man.

"Vice President."

Rufus, broken free of his thoughts, turned in his big swivel chair to see who had interrupted his plotting. There, standing in the doorway, was the leader of the Turks. Tseng. The young man smiled, flashing overly white teeth in a wolfish manner, and swiped a hand arrogantly through his strawberry-blond locks. It was a gesture that those close to him knew all too well.

"Tseng, what a pleasant surprise." he motioned towards the chair sitting across from out of courtesy, though he knew the Turk would never accept the offer. "Please, do take a seat."

"I must decline, sir."

"Very well then, what business do you have that is so urgent that it bypasses the common courtesy of knocking?"

"It is about the Promise Land project."

Curious, Rufus leaned over his desk. He knew very little about the project, aside from the fact that Sephiroth and the Cetra both had something to do with it, and that the vague promise of mako was what kept his father interested and invested. Professor Hojo was never one to make his motivations clear, and it made Rufus suspicious. Hollander was much easier to understand, thus manipulate. And apparently, before his early demise, Gast had been incredibly open about his intentions and was honest to a fault. Still, it was hard to find quality mad geniuses these days and when you found one, you worked what you had…

"It appears that three First Class SOLDIERs and one Second class have defected from the military…" Rufus' eyes widened with shock. That was NOT supposed to happen. "…and they took with them the half-Cetra."

"WHAT!" Rufus roared, slamming his palms on the desk and leaping to his feet.

"It has been three days since the recovery mission was supposed to have come to a close," Tseng continued, no apparent emotion on his face. "The General and Commander Rhapsosdos reported finding Commander Hewley in his hometown of Banora. He surrendered himself to martial law without confrontation. His passiveness as well as his disappearance was associated with some type of mental break, similar to that which Commander Rhapsodos suffered during his last stay in Wutai."

"Mental break? Are you telling me that my SOLDIERs are suffering from psychosis? None of them are even thirty!" Rufus frowned, visibly shaken. "And what do they have to do with the Cetra girl? And the Promise Land project?"

Tseng nodded,"Commander Rhapsodos displayed other symptoms aside from mental instability. According to Hollander's reports, his body was degrading rapidly due to a mutation in his genetic makeup. Commander Hewley's last physical revealed that, he too, was vulnerable to such a phenomena. But it appears his mental state was more fragile than anyone could have presumed."

The Turk drew a crumpled piece of cardstock from his coat pocket and held it out for Rufus to take. As the Vice President did so, he continued,"Recently, despite Hojo's refusal to allow me access to Sephiroth's mental and physical reports, I have come to the conclusion that the General is suffering from the same affliction as the other two."

"Dr. Strife, PhD in psychiatric medicine. Specializes in personality and mood disorders…"

"General Sephiroth denied profusely any involvement with this Dr. Strife character, and that much I do believe. But he has been displaying clear signs of deteriorating mental health, including hallucinations, paranoia and strong delusions. It is suspected he is experiencing severe bouts of anxiety and depression, and likely is suffering from insomnia."

Rufus covered his face. If his top SOLDIERs were going crazy and dying at the age of twenty, then it would certainly put a wrench in the works. How was he supposed to patch up something as glaringly negative as this? "Alright, so the three are going insane. How does that Second Class and the Cetra play a role in this fiasco?"

"Zackary Fair is Commander Hewley's student. He went on the mission out of loyalty for his mentor. As for the girl…" something about Tseng's face softened…almost as he were feeling guilty about something. "…I beg forgiveness sir, but the girl is involved due to a moment of negligence on my part. While the General was hospitalized for assaulting Hojo, whom is currently in a comatose state, Commander Rhapsodos had a temporary break. He decided that by leaping from the Sector Five portion of the Plate, he could find someone, whom was not a ShinRa doctor, who could help Sephiroth. He apparently found the half-Cetra girl and ran off with her while I was investigating another disturbance."

"Commander Rhapsodos managed to kidnap the last Cetra in existence and take her on a mission to the middle of Gaia forsaken nowhere without you or another Turk noticing?"

"My deepest apologies sir."

"Of all the…" Rufus gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to voice his doubts. Tseng was a loyal man. He had never betrayed him before so why suspect him of doing so now? "Find them. Bring her and the SOLDIERs home. If you meet resistance, shoot. Only Sephiroth and the girl are needed alive. The other two can be brought home as corpses for all I care."

This seemed to surprise the Turk, but he clearly understood why Rufus had said it. Deaths could be explained and covered up, especially if there were bodies to show as evidence. But missing individuals were always cause for scandal. He of all people would know. After all, Tseng had spent the better part of his early years as a Turk chasing the ghost of a legend. Vincent Valentine. He was reported missing in action and suspected dead, but anyone who knew Tseng, also knew that the man believed that 'missing' corresponded with the possibility of being alive. Until he found the gunman's dead body and put the legend to rest, he would always be alive to the Turks, especially those that admired or worked beside him.

"Very well sir."

With that, the man left, leaving Rufus alone with his thoughts once again. Apparently his plans of world domination would have to be delayed for the moment. No matter, once the issue with the SOLDIERs and the Cetra was solved, he could go back to watching AVALANCE harass his father and continue slipping them funds whenever they seemed low. It was such a hassle to deal with the military and try to overthrow the President.

But one thing bothered him. Tseng. He never lied to him before. He was sure of it. But he had a deep-rooted feeling that even if he wasn't lying, he wasn't telling the truth. Turks were tricky like that sometimes. They lived a life full of half-truths and deceptive maneuvers. You just hoped you were the one they were working for and not the one at which they were aiming their guns.

**Word Count: **1411

**.x.**

**15. The Turk Director**

Three days missing soon turned into three weeks.

Without its prized SOLDIER elite, ShinRa Electric Company was tumbling into absolute disarray. Their heroes gone, the people of Migar were fit to panic. Who would protect them? Why would they abandon them? Did they die? Did ShinRa 'get rid' of them? Did AVALANCHE capture them? No matter whether they were a citizen from above the Plate or below, every citizen knew the rumors and said rumors had at one time drifted upon their lips.

SOLDIER was an institution the people revered as much they feared. The mako-eyed monsters built for war were their guardians as well as their oppressors. If the best of the best could disappear into thin air, then what guarantee did any regular have of surviving the President's reign?

Therein lied the truth.

There was no guarantee. Then again, there never had been. Their petty illusion of security was just that, insubstantial and imaginary. A figment cast upon impressionable minds in order to manipulate, and in turn control, the masses.

No one knew this fact better than a Turk. For they were the keepers of order. The fine manipulators. It was with reputation alone, as ShinRa's spies and assassins, that they could pull the strings within people's cowardly hearts.

A double-sided blade, the life of a Turk. It was one indulged with privilege and ridden with death. No one escaped it once they were in. Then again, few ever wanted to escape, too lost in the voices of their inner demons to realize how far they had fallen. How little of their humanity remained. Others, were keenly, bitterly aware.

One of these few was the Turk Director himself, Tseng.

Often, he was simply referred to as the leader of the Turks, his position on the Board overlooked. And to be the leader, he had to be the coldest and hardest man amongst his fellow, broken souls. After all, it was he whom had to send his Turks on missions from which they may never return. It was he whom had to dispose of traitors in their ranks. It was he whom had to initiate new recruits into the dark underworld of their shadow-bound life.

It was also he whom had to stand vigil over fallen comrades graves. It was he whom watched children lose themselves so completely that they take their own lives. It was he whom chose to curse them with this opportunity. It was he whom carried every death among the ranks upon his shoulders as well as felt the harrowing stares of innocent ghosts at every turn.

And there were days, where this burden grew too heavy and threatened to crush him beneath the weight.

And then there others where he saw, in crystal clarity, a chance at redemption.

He saw it in Genesis' desperate gaze as he bid for the whereabouts of the one named Aerith. He saw it in the cold, calculating stare of Rufus when the man seemed to burn with panic. He saw it now, in Hojo's eyes, as the scientist spat orders his way, demanding that he send his Turks to secure the ShinRa mansion in Nibeliem.

Tseng could physically see his chance to meddle in the fall of events. And for some reason, he acted upon his whim to do so. Perhaps his chaste affections for the young half-Cetra were what led him to acting in such a way. Perhaps, in keeping her safe and free of the cruel perversions inflicted upon Sephiroth in his youth, he kept himself from falling prey to the darkness in his heart. Perhaps he was simply sick of being a gun-toting puppet on a greedy man's string and wished to spit in the eye of his master.

Perhaps…

All he knew for certain was that both the President's plans as well as Hojo's were going amok, and Tseng had done little more than step aside and allowed the flame to hit the fuel. Things were about to get interesting, and as a Turk, he would have a front row seat.

**Word Count: **677

**.x.**

**16. The sleeping legend**

She wasn't supposed to be in here, but her curiosity had won her over. For years, the ShinRa mansion had sat, untouched and slowing rotting. Suddenly, after a slew of headlines about defecting SOLDIERs, attacks by AVALANCHE and suspected traitors within the company, ShinRa officials were crawling about the place like ants on a drop of syrup. There had to be some truth behind the bizarre news stories, but one never knew fact from fiction when the media was involved.

Thus Tifa ignored the warnings preached to her since infancy to stay far away from the mansion, and dared to explore the dusty confines…it was so much like a tomb…a tomb filled with monsters. She knew that at any moment she could be caught, not only by a monster, but also by one of the scary suit wearing men. Turks…she suspected, but she had never seen one before up close and she wasn't planning on doing so any time soon.

Every so often she could hear the murmur of voices or gunfire. When she did, Tifa hid, praying to the Goddess that none of them would enter the room she was in…So far, her technique was working. But her range of movement was extremely limited and her pace agonizingly slow. Only the key clutched tight in a balled fist kept her calm. For some reason, it seemed to reassure her that as long as she kept it close, she would be alright.

As the mansion fell silent, Tifa began to crawl, slowly rising to her feet as she abandoned her hiding place. Keeping close to the wall, she began to creep towards the door. It was time to get out of here…Suddenly, there was a loud crash and a slew of curses. Spooked, Tifa leapt backwards to pin herself against the wall, feeling terribly exposed, only to find that as she did so, the wall moved. With a stifled scream, she fell, right through where the wall had just been, and landed hard.

The wall, which was apparently a hidden door, slid back shut on its own accord, leaving her trapped in the dark.

Tifa was quick to stand and grope blindly at the wall. She couldn't seem to find any latch…

"M-maybe there's another exit," Tifa said aloud, but the words seemed even more improbable when spoken than when thought. Stumbling slightly, she turned and found the wall…and a railing. Frowning, she took a step, discovering a flight of stairs. Why would there be a set of stairs going underground? In fact, why is there a hidden door in the ShinRa mansion? Maybe it was an escape tunnel after all!

Satisfied by her half-baked conclusions, the girl hurried down the stairs as quickly as her nerves and poor visibility would allow. Tifa tripped twice, had her foot get caught on a broken stair and nearly shrieked each time the wooden steps creaked or groaned in protest. It was more than a small relief when she saw a faint glow.

Soon she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, and found that it opened into a long, eerie hallway lined with what appeared to be torches. Except, despite flickering, the torches were not lit with fire…at least, not normal fire, because when touched, it was cool. Still nervous about her current situation, Tifa began to shuffle down the hallway, her eyes drawn to the various doors and upturned crates.

But before she could make it into the next chamber, a dilapidated door between her and what lay beyond, what could only be described as a gruesome horror burst through, its black-and-white body jerking closer like a movie zombie. "Yin-Yang." Tifa whispered, her eyes wide. It was supposed to be a myth! They didn't actually exist.

The creature lashed out with one swollen, clawed hand lightning fast; its two heads lifting and sagging like that of a rag doll, sharply contrasting to its attack. Fortunately, it missed. But Tifa knew that this monster was much more dangerous than it seemed, and getting hit was not a good idea. So she quickly turned and attempted to run, only to have a Bolt spell slam into the ground in front of her.

The scream she had been holding back finally escaped.

Oh Gaia! She was going to die. Alone and mutilated by a monster…

It drew closer, writhing clumsily. Tifa lashed out, nailing it in one of its heads with a solid punch. But the monster grinned, unconcerned…uninjured. It then swung its hand, catching her in the gut and sending her flying into one of the locked doors. As she sank to the ground, her entire body pulsing with pain, Tifa thought about Cloud. The little blond had saved her life once before. He had promised that he would come back and be her hero whenever she needed him.

Yet here she was…lost, beaten, alone.

"_The key!"_ a small voice in her head cried as she watched Yin-Yang scuttle closer, its body convulsing with anticipation. "Use the key!' Tifa blinked in confusion. The voice echoed in her ears as if it were spoken. But that wasn't possible. She was alone…

_'Follow your instincts,'_ she reminded herself. If this was her instincts yelling at her to use the key, then by Gaia, she was going to listen. Rising to her feet, Tifa examined the door just long enough to find the keyhole, before testing the key. She dared not glance over her shoulder. The monster was likely preparing to attack again. Soon, she would be ripped to shreds or fried to a crisp.

Tears built in her eyes and she fumbled with the key. Seconds drew on, long and treacherous, as she struggled to make it turn. Just as she was ready to give up and run, the tumblers turned and the door swung open, allowing her entrance…into a true tomb!

Coffins, everywhere.

Maybe she could hide in one and wait out the monster. Yin-Yang cast another spell, an Ice, which made her entire body grow numb. Tifa stumbled forwards, the world spinning, and caught herself against the middle-most coffin. "I'm going to die," she sobbed, realizing only then that she was crying. "Why here? Why now? Please, I don't want to die." Blood tricked down her stomach and legs. Every limb felt made of lead. She just wanted to lie down and never wake up.

"Please," she murmured, just as the world pixelated into black and she collapsed onto the cold ground.

Tifa was very surprised that she ever opened her eyes again. Everything hurt and her mouth felt stuffed full of cotton.

"What happened?" she asked the empty air as she sat up. Her eyes went big. There, laying in the middle of the room, was the corpse of the Yin-Yang. It was riddled with bullet holes and covered in scorch marks. But how? Tifa shifted, then looked down at where she lay. "How did I end up in a coffin!" Fit to panic, she began to climb out, only to be stopped by a hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

Tifa glanced up and screamed.

Staring back at her were twin pools of crimson.

**Word Count: **1194

**.x.**

**17. The betrayed warrior **

It was rather interesting, the chaos that gripped Midgar by the throat. More than once, his PHS had lit up, the President's number flashing on the screen. Insufferable fool. Why would he return to the company that betrayed him? He had given everything he had to give. His life. His family. His past and his future. He was nothing without his status as a Turk. He was no one. ShinRa had long ago stripped him of anything that could define him as more than just another body amongst the ranks.

He didn't need them. He didn't need anyone.

"Director Veld."

Umber eyes rose to meet those of piercing black. A smile quirked upon reluctant lips.

"Lieutenant."

"You are not answering the President's calls,"—a pause—"he believes you might be dead."

Slowly, Veld rose to his feet, brushing dust and grime from his civilian attire. Here, on the streets below the Plate, he had forged a new life. An empty life. One that required no names and no ties. And now his old life was knocking on the door, demanding entrance. Demanding that he be dragged back into that pit of vipers. Had such an opportunity presented itself, say, a few months ago, he might have leapt upon it with eagerness. But not now. Not after such a betrayal of his trust.

"Let him continue believe me dead, Lieutenant."

The other man drew closer, anger burning hot in those unexpressive eyes of his,"What of your Turks?"

"They're your sons and daughters now, Lieutenant."

With a shake of his head, the other Turk silently expressed his frustration.

Veld found his efforts amusing. Tseng could be quite persuasive if he wished to be, and the former Director of the Turks knew that the man was barely trying and his act was hardly convincing.

"What is it that you really want? Or is this merely a social call?"

Tseng looked pointedly away,"The President ordered me to find you and bring you back. I am apparently not suited for the role of Director seeing as the latest events occurred under my watch."

"You do not seem distressed by their occurrence, Lieutenant." Veld could read the younger man with ease, and Tseng definitely did not seem particularly motivated to either stop the chaos or bring Veld home.

"I—" but before Tseng could continue, his PHS rang. His entire persona shifted as he snapped the device open and brought it to his ear,"Tseng speaking."

_"Yo bossman, we got a problem."_

"Reno? Report."

"_Well, y'know how Nibelhiem is always complainin' 'bout a monster problem? It's a little more than justified. The mansion its crawlin' with beasties…includin' a vampire."_

"Reno, be serious for once in your life."

_"I am bossman. Couldn't be more serious, actually. Me an' a couple of the boys were clearin' things out when we heard screamin'. We go to investigate and next thing we know, we're being shot at! He was wicked fast, and I only caught a glimpse of him, but bossman, he took out our entire gang. Rude and Two Guns are down and out for the night and Katana isn't in much better shape."_

"He took down two pairs of Turks alone?"

_"Yah. And easily. Sorry bossman. But this guy…"_

"Understood. I will send aid your way ASAP."

_"Thanks…"_

And with that, the line went dead, leaving Tseng to stare at his PHS with empty eyes.

"Trouble, lieutenant?"

"Yes sir…" he turned away, prepared to leave. But he paused, casting once last, lingering glance at the man he thought of as a father. "Are you certain you do not wish to return to your previous position?"

Veld laughed. So predictable, his lieutenant. "I'll give it some thought."

"Thank you."

A minute later, Veld found himself alone yet again, his mind swimming with thoughts.

**Word Count: **633

**.x.**

**18. The mad scientist **

Professor Hojo was having the worst month…

First Specimen S experienced an early psychotic break and proceeded to waste an entire capsule of an experimental fluid—the results left Hojo comatose for over two weeks. Then, he ran off with Hollander's SOLDIER reject and the half-Cetra in order to locate Hollander's second SOLDIER reject. Why he bothered finding the vermin, Hojo had no idea, but his reasons for dragging the Ancient into the mix were even more elusive. And now, three weeks after Sephiroth's going missing, he heard word that the annoying pest, Specimen V, had woken up, managed to escape and was now preventing anyone from entering the ShinRa mansion.

"No matter," he muttered as the events of the past few weeks flickered by inside his head. "This situation is entirely salvageable. Valentine will grow bored of target practice with the Turks and flee before I arrive." That, and Sephiroth would come to him, willingly…Once Hojo figured out how to trigger the Reunion instinct.

**Word Count: **633

**.x.**


	4. Part 3

**A/N:**

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except an overactive imagination and a computer.

**Delivery**

**By Catsitta**

**19. The consuming flames**

Tifa tucked her heels underneath her haunches and listened as the gunfire above finally ceased. It had been three days since Vincent Valentine woke up from his twenty-three year slumber, saved her life and began making the Turk's lives a living nightmare. The only downside the whole scenario was the fact that she wasn't allowed to return home lest she attract unwanted attention and draw danger to herself and her family.

At least the gunman was not too poor of company.

Even if he barely spoke and the only topics he wanted to listen to involved Sephiroth. Then again, if his own story of trials and misfortune rang true, his obsession with the famed General was justified. To think that he was an ex-Turk whom fell in love with Sephiroth's mother, was her bodyguard for a time, and failed in rescuing the infant boy from a life of experimentation due to being shot by Professor Hojo and becoming his lab rat until the man grew bored. It made Tifa both respect as well fear the man, even if his only crime against her was preventing her from putting her life further in harm's way.

"Miss Lockheart," Tifa recognized Vincent's raspy voice and looked up. He stood nearby, surprisingly silent despite his flamboyant appearance. After all, who would think a man with metal-tipped boots, a golden-clawed gauntlet for an arm and a long, billowing red cape would be anywhere close to quiet? His Turk training must have compensated for the unusual attire, for he looked none too comfortable, and she often saw him picking at his leathers with dismay.

"Hello. Are they gone yet?"

He dipped his head in an affirmative manner, "For the moment." Then the gunman held out his hand not encased in metal,"Come Lockheart. We must make haste."

"Pardon?"

Tifa was uncertain how to respond and was even a little dumbstruck as Vincent gripped her forearm and pulled her to her feet. Wordlessly, she followed his lead. He must be taking her home! Her father had to be worried sick. And what had Vincent done to the Turks to immobilize enough of them that it was safe for her to resurface?

As they reached the top of the spiral staircase, Tifa balked. Was that smoke she smelled? With a tug, Vincent urged her forwards again, and soon she was running. Time grew still as she reached the mansion's main double doors and threw them open. Her eyes widened.

Fire. Everywhere.

"No…Papa. The villagers…W-why?" her cry caught in her throat, thick and wet. Who would do such a thing? Who would set a small village, in the middle of the mountains, on fire? Such an act had to be purposeful. Never, in its century of existence, had the village burned. Small house fires were easily contained due to the well being located at the village's center.

Before she could lunge forwards, into the smoke and blistering flames, Vincent wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her over his shoulder. Tifa proceeded to pound her fists against his back, and drive her knees into his chest, but the gunman was unfazed. He merely swept midnight bangs away from the ethereal pallor of his skin, before leaping. Again and again he leapt.

Onto the ground. Against the side of buildings. Through the remnants of trees. All the while Tifa struggled and sobbed, her father's name on her lips and his image on her mind. Caught up in her grief, she barely noticed when they came to a stop and Vincent laid her down on a bare patch of stone. It took until the mountain air penetrated her skin and chilled her inferno of emotions before she returned to reality. And what a dim reality it was.

Stranded in the middle of the mountains, alone save for her savior as well as kidnapper, with no supplies and no home to return to. Tifa knew what she saw. So much fire. So many bodies. If there were survivors…Tears burned at the corners of her eyes again, but she felt almost too numb to let them be shed. Why had this happened? Why?

Red filled her vision, but rather than anger, it was a tattered cloak. Vincent stood above her, his aristocratic features bared and impassive. "You need to keep warm," he said simply. And if it were not for what he had shared with her about his past, Tifa would have thought him in more need of the cloak than she. The gunman was tall and impressive wearing his crimson mantel, but without it, he looked frail and sickly, almost as if he hadn't eaten in months. '_Or years,' _she added as an afterthought.

Reluctantly, she accepted the thin cloth and wrapped it around her shoulders, but one question burned hot. "What happened?"

"Hojo." was all Vincent had to say, and he said it as one might say slugs, roaches or rats. Within a single word he portrayed a wellspring of bitterness and disgust, and his expression changed briefly to that of repulsion.

"Hojo did this? Why? How? I thought he was in Midgar?"

Vincent nodded,"He was, until this morning. The Turks were particularly persistent, and by the time I realized what was going on, it was too late. They were distracting me as other members set fire to the town, likely on Hojo's order. The man doesn't want me there to interrupt his latest scheme."

Tifa paled as she stared at the ex-Turk with disbelief,"You mean what happened to my home is your fault?"

"I did not set the fire," he replied, sounding slightly offended.

"But if you hadn't harassed the Turks…if you had left town…None of this would have happened!"

"What if's are pointless to dwell upon. What has happened has happened and cannot be changed." His tone began harsh but it quickly faded into a whisper, "I learned that lesson the hard way. "

Tifa's anger dissolved, but grief remained. Why was this happening? She just wanted to curl up and leave this nightmare behind.

"I'm sorry. This was never supposed to happen."

She looked up, thinking she heard Cloud's voice. And he was there, standing in the distance, his eyes full of sorrow. But…he looked different. Older. Like he had in her dreams. The blond drew closer a few steps, and to Tifa's surprise, the ever observant Vincent seemed oblivious to Cloud's presence. In fact, he was looking in the opposite direction, likely scanning the area for potential danger.

"Tifa," Cloud continued. "Do me a favor and take care of Vincent for me, okay?"

"What—?"

He placed a finger over his lips, bidding her to be silent.

"Take care of him. He seems all tough and such, but he needs someone to help him pick up all of the pieces." He smiled in that shy way that was one-hundred percent Cloud Strife. It was smile she had only ever seen once before. "Once you two make it out of the mountains, head south until you reach a river. Then, follow it westwards until it bends north. I'd say that you would need a colored chocobo to traverse any further, but I have faith in Vincent's resourcefulness. But, that being said, once you reach the bend, follow the river north until you reach a lake with a waterfall. There is someone there that Vincent needs to speak with before he can put his life back together."

"Cloud…Nibelhiem…It…"

He placed a finger over his lips again,"It burned. But what is done is done, and I regret that I could not circumvent it from happening. Things are not…going as planned."

"Planned? Cloud, explain yourself!"

The blond shook his head,"Another day. Another place. Another time. Maybe. For now, I cannot say. Not yet."

"Miss Lockheart, with whom are you speaking?"

Tifa glanced in Vincent's direction to find the gunman giving her an odd look. As she returned he attention to where Cloud had been, she found the blond nowhere in sight. No footprints even remained. Softly, and a little bit sadly she said,"A memory."

As if accepting her answer, Vincent shrugged,"We cannot linger here much longer. Are you ready?"

"Yeah…I am." she mumbled, though the tremble in her voice revealed that she was anything but ready.

**Word Count: **1361

**A/N: (There are some things that cannot be avoided, for they are markers in time.) **

**.x.**

**20. The water's edge**

It was sickening, the way Zack was acting. Sephiroth simply could not understand why the young SOLDIER was suddenly caught up in the 'color of her eyes' and the 'way she smiles'. Aerith seemed utterly clueless to the clumsy courtship, but to everyone else in the makeshift party, even Sephiroth, it was painfully obvious. Very, very painfully obvious. He wanted to smack some sense back in that empty head of Zack's, but refrained from doing so. Why, the silver General was uncertain.

Perhaps it was because chasing the flower girl distracted the boy from other things…Darker things. Things that Sephiroth wished he could drown out and forget for once in his life. Seeing that glimmer of purity, of innocence, it struck him deep, but it proved a double-edged sword. It hurt him, offended him, even angered him in ways Sephiroth could not comprehend a reason. But it also soothed his anxieties, his perpetual nightmares, by reminding him of why he was proud to be a SOLDIER. Of why he still believed in the good of humanity.

"You're brooding, old friend. Might I ask what has brought upon this state of mind?"

Sephiroth grunted. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with Genesis. In fact, he wasn't in the mood to deal with anything or anyone. This life they were leading, that of runaways, it soured his disposition and speared into the flesh of his pride.

"Only you would be so gloomy after such a glorious victory, old friend." the auburn SOLDIER lowered himself so that he crouched at Sephiroth's side. His mako eyes were bright once again. And no longer was his skin grey. If it were not for the distinctive streaks of grey and white in his fiery locks, one would never have been able to tell that, a month ago, this same man was practically laying on his deathbed. "Angeal is well. Zackary has fallen in love. Wutai and ShinRa are at peace. And for the first time in our lives, we are truly free!"

Plucking at the sleeve of his civilian attire, Sephiroth let out a sigh. Of course Genesis would see things in such a way. Even if he was a jealous, overconfident and impulsive brat at times—he was an optimist deep down. Really, deep down. It was simply difficult to remember how the man was as boy, after all that had happened as of late.

"Sephiroth. What is on your mind?"

The silver-haired swordsman glanced up at the sky. Dusk approached. The third one since their arrival at the lake. None of the others seemed interested in leaving their newfound sanctuary, especially since they had been travelling hard, and after weeks either hiding on a boat or riding chocobos bareback across broad expanses of land, any location that was safe and quiet was welcome. It was not as if they had to worry much about supplies or being attacked. The chocobos they capture and managed to tame were green's and perfectly capable of traversing the treacherous mountains that enclosed the lake. But unless someone with a green or a powerful boat that could combat the rapids downriver, purposefully came looking here, they would not be found. And the nearest town was but a few days travel there and back on their fastest mount.

This place…it was perfect. From the sheer, sandy river banks that prevented any form of aircraft from landing within miles. To the pure, crystalline water. It was quiet, serene and honestly, disturbing. Sephiroth appreciated his solitude, peace and quiet, and all of that, more than most. But this…this was too much for him. It gave him too much time to think.

"Everything, Genesis. Everything is on my mind."

"Perhaps if you spoke with someone more than once a week…"

Again, Sephiroth grunted. He was getting a headache already.

"Just…take care of yourself, Sephiroth." The SOLDIER rose up, brushing grass and sand from his pants. And with that, he left the silver General alone with his thoughts.

The horizon was painted red by the time he closed his eyes and considered joining the others in their makeshift camp. He needed sleep. But as of late, ShinRa, Hojo and more haunted him…kept him from resting. Half expecting Strife to pop out of nowhere to offer some tidbit of ridiculous advice, Sephiroth remained where he sat…and soon, the painted sky melted into an indigo sea splashed with stars.

This peace could not last for much longer.

It couldn't.

Thus he found himself waiting for disaster to strike, wary of the calm before the storm.

"Aren't you uncomfortable, sleeping like that?"

Surprised that the girl managed to walk up behind him without his noticing, Sephiroth looked up. Eyes of emerald glittered the darkness, filled with trust that should be reserved for someone who wasn't a monster…Where…where was this train of thought coming from? Looking away, he pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to quell his inner dialogue.

He heard shuffling, then something soft was draped over his shoulders. A blanket.

"There," Aerith chimed, obviously pleased with herself. "at least now you won't get cold." Sephiroth was half-tempted to inform her that a SOLDIER of his stature did not 'get cold' unless in sub-arctic conditions. But he held his tongue, somewhat appreciative of the gesture. It wasn't often someone cared for him enough to call him a friend, although Sephiroth suspected that her motherly nature demanded that she take care of anyone, regardless of their gender, rank or age.

"Aren't you going to thank me?"

"Should I?" he had meant it as a hint for her to leave.

"Of course! Saying thank you is good manners." Aerith giggled before winding her arms around his neck. Was she…hugging him? Genesis and Angeal both knew better than to do so, and Zackary was quick to hide behind his mentor whenever his excitement got out of hand. But this girl, this fragile, easily crushed girl, had her delicate limbs wrapped about him like he was a harmless stuffed animal. Before he found the words to tell her off, she placed a swift kiss on the top of his head and detracted herself. "Goodnight Sephiroth. Sweet dreams."

Oddly enough, when he recovered the shock of the situation and laid down to sleep…he found that his dreams were…pleasant.

**Word Count: **1051

**A/N: (As the waves lap against the shore, it is easy to get caught up in the rhythm. But is it time to rest your head, lulled to sleep by nature's lullaby? )**

**.x.**

**21. The void between**

_"In another life, you two could have been enemies…siblings…or even lovers."_

"Strife? Is that you?"

"_Yet here you are, friends."_

"Who are you talking about?"

_"You and Sephiroth."_

"Me and…?"

_"Sephiroth, yes. Then there is Zack. Always the friend. Always the guardian. Never the lover, even when you two are soul mates. Destiny finds humor in tragedy I suppose, and laughs when true love is ripped apart…denied."_

"T-this isn't funny. Stop saying things like that!"

_"Then there is Genesis and Angeal. You were never supposed to meet them. Yet here they are, opening new paths once unforeseen."_

Bodiless voices soon take shape. Aerith found herself standing across from Strife, a bottomless void between them.

"Then there is you," she whispered, at last realizing to what the blond was alluding.

_"Yes. Then there is I. In another life, we would be friends. I would come to love you and you I. It would be tender, frightening and new. And cut short by a cruel man's blade." _Strife smirked and added with a bitter laugh,"_Yet here I am, entrusting you into his care."_

"Strife…What's going on? Who are you? What happened to you?"

_"Listen to the Planet, she will reveal to you what I cannot. As for my identity and my past, let it be said that neither exist any longer. I am my purpose, nothing less, nothing more."_

"What is your purpose?"

_"To circumvent World's End."_

The void between them widened and Strife disappeared in the darkness. Before Aerith could even utter a word, her breath was stolen away, the blackness suffocating. It was like drowning in…in…the essence of death. She was consumed by it. Obliterated by it. Cradled into the blissful oblivion by it…

_"In another life, all the heroes fell."_

**Word Count: **292

**A/N: (Is this reality? Is this darkness real? Or am I falling…? Deeper and deep into the void that divides us—our lives, our dreams, our worlds.)**

**.x.**

**22. The shifting sands**

Genesis watched as Sephiroth danced through his katas. There was not much room to practice, given that the flimsy, sandy banks of the lake cut close to the rocky roots of the mountains. Only a few yards of solid, flat ground were available to use—every inch of it bright with downy grass. Which made it difficult for the silver-haired SOLDIER to extend his reach, Masamune's impressive blade cumbersome in the tight confines.

Watching the man gave way to wonder and concern. For his entire life, Sephiroth had been caged….confined. He had lived in no way other than that of the strictest regimen. Controlled. Regulated. He had been in a position of power, a place he had paid the price to achieve, but the cost was more than most could imagine. It was astounding the man hadn't snapped and gone on some sort of killing spree with his history.

Now, he had no schedule to maintain. No superiors to answer to. Sephiroth was free and in control of his life. It was by his command how the fivesome lived. Yet, he seemed so uncertain, almost as if the trust of his friends would be broken should he take control. The chance to be the leader he was supposed to be was sitting in his hands, yet…

Genesis sighed.

How long had it been since they arrived at the lake? Days? Weeks? He couldn't remember when ShinRa became a distant memory. It was nice. But like all things, peace could not last forever. One of these days, they would make a journey to town and be caught. He'd say money would be an issue, but with four SOLDIERs, gil and other valuables were easy to attain. All they had to do was enter the mountains or travel southwards down the river, and monsters could be found, hunted and their trophies taken.

His thoughts were broken by a scream. Aerith.

The auburn-haired SOLDIER was quick to turn and run towards camp. A blur of black-and-silver told him that Sephiroth was at his side. Two heads of black hair were bowed as Genesis and Sephiroth arrived. It seemed that Angeal and Zack were attempting to wake the flower girl and failing.

"Aerith, c'mon girl." Zack muttered, his face flushed with worry. "It's just a nightmare. Wake up."

Angeal fumbled with a canteen and before Zack could protest, dumped the contents over Aerith's face and chest, soaking the poor girl's hair and clothing. However she continued to twitch and began to gasp. Her dream inescapable.

"N-no…" she sobbed. "N-not true…"

"What's not true, Aerith?" Zack asked softly, pulling her up into his arms and stroking her damp hair. He looked ready to cry. Then again, why wouldn't he be upset? The little flower girl had grown on them since Genesis…more or less kidnapped her. She smiled and laughed, teased and dreamed. Aerith treated everyone like a friend, regardless of who they were, or what they looked like. Genesis knew from his observations that she even managed to melt a little of Sephiroth's icy defenses.

It hurt everyone to see her in such a state.

Suddenly, she screamed again, but this time, her eyes snapped open and her hands clutched the front of Zack's shirt. "Oh Gaia."

"Aerith, what's wrong?"

"H-he visited me in my dreams. He told me things. Then the Planet, she cried. She was in agony. S-she showed me that all he said was true. B-but it makes no sense. I-it's impossible, yet…"

Zack kissed her brow,"It's alright. You can tell us later."

"I-I…" Aerith looked ready to burst into tears. But instead, her eyes widened, and she screamed.

Genesis' eye snapped up to where the flower girl was staring and swore.

Dropping from the sky like an angel of darkness, was a man with a golden claw and a dangerous looking pistol.

**Word Count: **641

**A/N: ( We'll carve a path through the sand, for no trace will be left behind.)**

**.x.**

**23. The secrets broken**

Sephiroth braced himself for attack, fully prepared to cut this stranger down.

But no attack came; instead, the crimson-eyed stranger stared at him with surprise. He had landed beside Aerith mere seconds earlier, and after pulling the girl free of the two SOLDIERs aiding her, his gaze had fallen onto Sephiroth. The pistol clutched in his human hand wavered. Aerith grew still in his grip.

No one utter a word or dared to breathe. Who was this man? Was he with ShinRa? Did he plan to use Aerith as a hostage?

The suffocating atmosphere almost overwhelmed them, that is, until someone broke through the tension. Another stranger. A girl.

"Vincent! Vincent!" she yelled, struggling to keep her footing as she crept along a precariously thin strip of sand. "What are you doing?"

'Vincent', glanced in the girl's direction and then back at the men surrounding him. He was outnumbered, and outclassed. If he was smart, the gunman would let Aerith go…

"Stop it Vincent!" the girl commanded, clearly agitated. She then yelped as the sand beneath her foot gave way and slipping into the churning river. Clinging to the rocky wall behind her, the girl was quick to pull herself free and scramble a few inches closer to the group. "They're SOLDIERs. Why would they hurt a…er—what's the word?—civilian. That's it. Why would they hurt a civilian?"

The gunman relaxed a degree, but did not release Aerith. His gazed flicked suspiciously between Sephiroth and the other three men. It was easy enough to read what was going through his head: Why was a teenage female in the company of four SOLDIERs? Three of whom which were grown men.

Finally, the girl made it onto more stable ground and proceeded to run closer. She was clearly the athletic sort, if her muscular form and fluid movements were anything to judge by. But it begged the question: What was her association to the gunman? Not daughter, no, Sephiroth quickly determined. Body build, hair color, eye color, facial structure—nothing matched up.

Genesis, whom had been crouched like a predator in wait, chose that moment to pounce. Not on the gunman, but on the girl. Vincent's reaction was immediate. He released Aerith and in a flash of movement that was almost too fast to see, the gunman grabbed Genesis' collar and hauled him away from his prey before he managed to even lay a hand on the girl. Said girl stumbled a step out of surprise, but did not stop running. She skirted around the tangled pair and put herself between them and the other three SOLDIERs.

Clad in a tiny pair of shorts, hiking boots and tank top, the girl was certainly one of the least intimidating creatures Sephiroth had ever seen. For a moment, she reminded him of Yuffie, and how bold she had been despite her diminutive size.

"Stop fighting! All of you." she commanded. There was a waver in her voice. "This is all a big misunderstanding."

Sephiroth grunted, prepared to give the girl a taste of his opinion, but Zack beat him there.

"Misunderstanding? That Vincent guy came out of nowhere, grabbed my girlfriend and then pointed a gun at everyone!"Aerith blushed. Apparently she had not expected Zack to declare them involved. As far as Sephiroth knew, Zack's clumsy courtship was a rather one-sided affair. "How can you possibly call that a misunderstanding?"

The girl bit her lip, obviously taken aback by Zack's outburst,"Look. Just, how about we all calm down? I'll explain everything…"

Vincent made a noise and shoved Genesis away, causing the SOLDIER to stumble and scowl. He was not happy.

Sephiroth acquiesced as well and lowered his sword. Zack crawled over to Aerith and pulled her onto his lap. And Angeal simply remained where he sat, thoroughly disoriented and confused. The man didn't speak much these days, but his lack of reaction to this whole scene was slightly unsettling. Was his mind truly too far gone to fully recover? Would the Angeal that mothered and lectured his friends and acquaintances alike, never return?

"M-my name is Tifa Lockheart." she began. "That man over there is Vincent Valentine. Despite his looks, he's not a vampire…he's a former Turk. A man named Hojo shot and experimented on him…on the same day that…that Sephiroth was born." Tifa swallowed, clearly nervous. "Before that day, he was friends with a woman named Lucrecia Crescent."

"Mother…" Sephiroth murmured, remembering the files Strife gave him. The very files that caused him to momentarily lapse into insanity and attempt to make that vile wretch Hojo suffer for his lies. His eyes narrowed. How was it possible that the gunman know his mother? The man looked not a day older than thirty at most, and given that Sephiroth himself was twenty-three…

"One day, she told Vincent she was pregnant and that she was happy to contribute her unborn child to…to science." Tifa was clearly unsettled by the weight of Sephiroth's gaze. "He tried to stop her. He kept trying even after the child was born. But after a near fatal gunshot wound to the chest and many other terrible things later…he was left in a coma. Expected to die. E-except Lucrecia had done something to him during Hojo's experiments. The only thing she could to save him. That thing kept him from aging…and…."

"Enough," it was Vincent. His gaze was unreadable, but it softened with something akin to affection as he looked at Sephiroth. "Sephiroth…you look so much like your mother." Of all the first words to say to a person…

"Why did you attack Aerith?" it was cold of him to ignore the man's attempt at cordiality. But first things first: This man had leapt in the middle of their camp, grabbed the female in their midst and proceeded to threaten everyone else. It had not been the most welcoming of gestures.

"Attack?" the gunman frowned,"I believed her in danger when I heard screaming."

"You mean you came to rescue me?" Aerith asked. She seemed to have already forgiven Vincent for his actions as well as recovered from Zack's, for she was perched on his lap, at ease with the arm looped around her waist. "How sweet."

Genesis scoffed,"Sweet?"

"Yes. Vincent was being very sweet. Now, it's time for breakfast. How about you boys go clean up while I and…Tifa is it?" The other girl nodded. "While I and Tifa make a nice meal. Angeal," the SOLDIER looked at her curiously,"you're welcome to help as well since you're the only one of them I trust not to catch the food on fire or throw the pans into the lake."

"That was once!" both Genesis and Zack exclaimed in unison.

Sephiroth remembered that incident. He had been recruited to help purchase new cookware afterwards. The people in the marketplace had found it "adorable" that such a big, strong man such as himself would go shopping with his daughter. (He did not look THAT old, did he? Perhaps he did in his disguise, and Aerith naturally looked younger than her fifteen years of age...) Let it be said that Sephiroth took his frustrations out on the two nitwits that caused the situation the first place and neither Genesis nor Zack were allowed near the food preparation process since.

"Yes. And once was one too many times." Aerith informed them with a wink. She liked to tease and playfully chastise the boys. "Now shoo. It will be nice to finally have a girl to talk to again."

Arching his brows, Sephiroth silently questioned Aerith's statement. Had she just implied that Tifa would be staying with them? What about Vincent?

Speaking of whom…the man was nowhere in sight…

"He does that from time to time."

"Strife." Sephiroth had long since grown used to the blond's random appearances.

"Vincent is an interesting man. Quiet. Insecure. But loyal until the end. A good friend to have."

"You know him?"

The blond smiled and took his cap off, allowing his wild hair to bounce up in every direction. He did not speak for a moment, but when he did, it was with affection in his voice,"In another life I did. But that's neither here nor there…Just keep in mind that there are many secrets in this world left undiscovered. Allow your friends to cradle you when you fall, because some of those secrets will knock you down. They will knock you down and rip you apart and leave you wondering who you really are."

"Vincent is one of these many secrets I am assuming."

Strife nodded,"A secret that is key to many more." He then sighed, a frown playing upon his features,"Tell Aerith I'm sorry. I knew what I did hurt her, but she needed to open her mind and accept her heritage."

"The nightmare…"

"Yes."

"Why can you not give us all a straight answer, Strife?"

"Because that would be against the rules."

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes and no. The rules are my own so there would be no penalty in breaking them, aside from what would occur as a result of my breaking them."

A pause.

"Who are you Strife?

The blond offered a wry smile and yet another unhelpful answer to the list of "who" he was. "A memory." Then he disappeared. And Sephiroth realized that no one else seemed to notice his conversation with Strife, for the girls were busy chatting, Angeal was toting firewood, and Genesis and Zack were bickering over something.

Again a certain, pessimistic thought bubbled to the surface.

Peace never lasts.

**Word Count: **1592

**A/N: ( With every secret broken, another remains unsolved. )**

**.x.**

**24. The crystal cave**

He needed to clear his head. It was all too much. Nibelhiem's burning. The travel. Meeting Sephiroth…

Vincent clutched his aching head. The demons were crying out, demanding his attention. But he couldn't grant it. No, not again. Each time he released the monsters, they threatened to consume him…destroy him. And right now he feared himself too weak to handle the beasts should they emerge.

Thus he fled the group and made haste to someplace quiet. Dark.

It was not the first time he sought sanctuary in a cave.

But this time, it felt different. His head still throbbed. The demons howled. He couldn't escape them.

Blindly, he stumbled in the darkness, his eyes clamped shut. Louder and louder the voices grew. Then, they fell eerily silent. Vincent opened his eyes just a hint before allowing is arms to fall to his sides in shock. There, before him, was a massive column of crystallized mako and it radiated both light and energy. How tempting it was to touch the structure…

"GO AWAY!" cried a bodiless force and a wave of energy threw Vincent backwards a few paces. "Leave me be…"

Crimson eyes narrowed. He recognized that voice. It belonged to his beloved. His Lucrecia!

Vincent scrambled closer and peered deeply into the faceted crystal, and true to his suspicions, he saw a dark shape. A female shape with long hair and arched bangs. He could barely keep the heart in his chest from leaping out in both distress and joy. He had found her. She was not dead…but this…this was not living. This was entrapment within one's own tomb.

"Lucrecia…" he murmured, splaying his fingers and pressing his palm flat against the crystal. "It is me, Vincent."

"Vincent?" his heart fluttered at the sound of her voice. It was shy and broken, but hers all the same. "Please, go away Vincent. This…this is my punishment. My punishment for my foolishness, for tricking you and failing my son. Sephiroth…I never held him. Hojo never let me hold my son and he left me to die."

Another wave of energy hit Vincent hard, along with a brief flicker of memories. He felt her happiness at discovering her pregnancy. He felt her pride in knowing that her child was a part of a project. And her abhorrence, confusion and utter insanity when she began to have devastating nightmares about what her beloved baby boy would become.

"Tell me, is Sephiroth alive?"

Vincent crept closer to the crystal, his heart heaving with indecision. Should he tell her that her son was here, and very much so alive? Or should he lie and tell her that he was dead, passed away in the innocent of infancy, thus never knowing the brutality of Hojo's "care".

"Lucrecia…I—?"

"Vincent, are you in here?" how was it possible? The gunman turn to see the SOLDIER approach, his hair damp from the spray of the waterfall. "I thought I heard your…voice…" Sephiroth's gaze was instantly drawn to the massive pillar of crystal and a visible shiver went down his spine. "What—?"

"Sephiroth," Lucrecia cried. "My son. Vincent, you brought me my son."

How did she know? Then again, if her dreams were as vivid as she claimed, then she knew what he son would look like as an adult. His hair long and silver, his eyes green and glowing with mako shine.

Sephiroth seemed disturbed. He stood rooted in place as he examined the crystal from afar. Vincent half suspected the young man to turn tail and walk away, to chalk up his hearing voices to some other condition. But, he did not run away. No, he did the one thing Vincent never dreamed the prideful man would ever do.

He smiled and slowly approached Lucrecia's crystal tomb, his eyes like that of a child's. As he pressed his palm against the crystal, he began to laugh then sob. It was a frightening sight, to say the least. From the tales Tifa wove of this man, Sephiroth was supposedly an unfeeling, machine of a man. He did not allow his emotions any reign over his actions, and that is why he was so famous and deadly. But here he was, kneeling on the ground, tears of what he assumed were joy rolling down his cheeks.

"Mother," Sephiroth whispered. "After all of these years, I have found you."

**Word Count: **729

**A/N: ( The era of forgiveness begins.)**

**.x.**


	5. Part 4

**A/N: **

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except an overactive imagination and a computer.

**Delivery**

**By Catsitta**

**25. The dawn rises**

We are leaving come dawn," were the first words out of Sephiroth's mouth as he entered camp. Tifa shivered, the raw intensity of the command unsettling. This man, this idolized weapon of war, stood no more than a few feet from where sat curled by a campfire for the first time in days. After her recent stint of travel and the shock of losing her home and family, Tifa's nerves were frayed and she wanted nothing more than to lay by the lake and sleep for the next week. Tempted to complain, she bit her lip, but the pain did little to bring her senses under control.

It was too much. All of this was too much and she could not handle it. But…

"Sephiroth, you were gone for hours," Genesis did not seem to share Tifa's reservations about speaking up. "Now you march back to camp in the middle of the night, without a word to where you've been or why, and demand that we leave our sanctuary? Have you lost your mind?"

The silver General stared levelly at the other SOLDIER, frighteningly impassive.

"Many things have been brought to my attention," he explained. "None of which can I sit by and allow to fester. Either you follow my lead or I will go alone."

"My, my, an ultimatum from the feared Demon of Wutai," Genesis drawled. "It must be serious."

"I will explain come daybreak. For now, sleep."

It was a restless affair, sleeping. Tifa knew she was not the only one tossing and turning that night, their thoughts awhirl. She swore that once she heard whispering, but discounted it as her fatigued mind as playing tricks on her. And when she woke, she felt more exhausted than when she went to bed and she silently wished that Vincent was there to act as a steady hand of guidance. He may not speak much, but he kept her moving and safe whenever she believed she would collapse and never get up again.

Little was said as the morning drew on and the campsite was collected.

That is, until Vincent decided to make his reappearance.

Most of the others began to murmur amongst themselves, with the one exception being Sephiroth. Instead, he approached the gunman and held out his hand. Vincent hesitated, but accepted the gesture, shaking the younger man's hand in a silent agreement.

"Today," Sephiroth announced. "begins our journey. We once believed ourselves nothing but monsters at the beck and call of the men whom created us. We shook the chains that bound us, and now their kingdom trembles, for their armies follow our command rather than theirs. Now, we will strike the final blow and make sure ShinRa's crimes are paid for and the victims rescued."

"Poetic," Genesis noted, plainly curious.

"Yesterday, I learned so many truths…and I learned that which Strife spoke of were what laid beneath all the lies I had heard until now. Yesterday, I learned exactly what he meant by every clue he unveiled…Yesterday, I learned that I am defined by purpose. That I am, in many ways, a simple man whom others cast as complex…mysterious. That I am, to many, a memory that they will never forget." He turned his sights on Aerith,"Yesterday, I met a woman named Lucrecia Crescent. My mother. And she opened my eyes to everything."

Aerith smiled sweetly,"What can we do to help?" She seemed utterly unfazed by Sephiroth's speech, unlike the rest of the group. Tifa, herself, was gaping at the man as if he had grown a second head. What exactly was he rambling on about? Who was "Strife"? What were these clues he was rambling about? How did his "mother" play a role? And was he planning anarchy?

Had she just been recruited to become a terrorist alongside four SOLDIERs and the flower girl? Vincent couldn't possibly agree to be a part of this…

Sephiroth looked to the sky,"You can trust me and my lead."

"Well it's about time you stepped up," Genesis jibbed.

"What just happened?" asked Zack.

Angeal shrugged. Aerith continued to smile.

And Tifa, she covered her face. She had just seen Vincent nod. He was joining this escapade led by a madman.

"Come, let us be off."

Without much other choice, Tifa picked herself up and followed the group. This was not how she pictured spending her fourteenth birthday.

**Word Count: **729

**A/N: (With dawn, comes a new day.)**

**.x.**

**26. The morning light**

Escaping the doldrums of Wutaian politics proved easy enough. That is, once Yuffie snuck out of her bedroom window and once again embarked on her journey around the world. There was too much to see and do, too much treasure to find, for her to sit around all day like a good, cultured doll. Her father would throw a hissy fit when she returned, but Yuffie was used to it.

She knew that all it would take to shut the old man up would be a big sack teeming with mastered materia!

Thus she quickly began her hunts, swiping the crystals from travels and soldiers alike…during which, she began to hear the most bizarre rumors. Apparently, if word was true, three First Class SOLDIERs abandoned ShinRa, along with the Second Class student of one of the three. Their absence was causing dissent among the ranks, and ShinRa was all but collapsing onto its crumbling foundation. For, without the absolute command of the military, ShinRa was suffering from terrorist attacks and civilian uprisings. The reactors that were so treasured were being assaulted. And a whole slew of other problems were running rampant.

Yuffie almost believed it too crazy to be true.

So she continued on her way, ignoring the gossip as she pilfered shops and hidden caves. Everything from valuables to complete junk filling her pockets and secret hidey-holes.

Life was going great…until she tried to pinch the pockets of a scary, vampire looking dude. He put up one heck of a fight! Yuffie had come to trust in Conformer's amazing strength, and that trust faltered when the man easily deflected the shuriken with his metal hand and grabbed her by the arm.

She struggled in his grip until a familiar voice caused her to go limp,"Woah…Yuffie?"

"Zack! Make this big meanie go away."

'Big Meanie' apparently knew Zack, because he freed Yuffie without a word.

"Yuffie, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she countered.

'Big Meanie' quickly cut in,"We do not have time for petty socializing."

"Oh, right. The mission."

"Mission?"

"Rescue mission," Zack said with a grin. "Me and Vincent here are playing backup as Sephiroth and Genesis do the fun part. My mentor, Angeal, is somewhere with the girls. They wanted to fight too but Sephiroth is being super General-y, and told them to stay out of the way and out of sight."

Vincent gave the SOLDIER a look almost capable of killing,"Must you divulge our plans to everyone we meet?"

"What? No. Yuffie here is a friend. She saved Genesis' life you know."

"She's a child."

"Hey buster! I'm THE ninja princess of Wutai and master treasure hunter. I'm not just some kid."

Zack chuckled and ruffled Yuffie's hair, earning himself a kick in the shin. Had she been stronger, the attack might have hurt, but at best he felt her foot connect and Yuffie knew it. SOLDIERs were tough…

…and was that Sephiroth?

Suddenly, the earth began to shake and tremble, causing the inhabitants of the town to scream and scatter. Yuffie honestly had no idea which town she was in exactly (it was easy to lose track), but whichever it was would need to rebuild, because the tremble quickly became a quake. Unable to keep her balance, the Princess fell to her knees, right beside a kneeling Zack.

"What did you guys do?" the Second shouted.

"A touch of collateral damage," Genesis replied, skirting around Sephiroth and temporarily drawing to a stop at Vincent's side. "It serves those villains right. Look what they did…" Yuffie looked up to where the auburn SOLDIER was motioning and saw…a girl? She was about Yuffie's age, with copper-hued hair and a bizarre bodysuit. And, was she...see-through? No, it had to be a trick of the light. "Poor girl. Her comrades were in better condition and they were adamant about keeping her in the mako tank, but they stopped fighting when I commanded them to do so. Much to the good General's irritation."

"Why would they do that?" Zack asked, rising to his feet despite the continual shaking of the earth. Violent fissures were cracking the ground beneath them. It was time to run.

"They…they were programmed that way," was Genesis' dark response. "Come, Zack. The others are free and this little one has a sister whose worried sick."

"Sister?"

"In Midgar. Don't ask. Sephiroth refuses to say how he knew about Deepground or how he knows about Shalua."

Zack nodded before picking up Yuffie and pulling her onto his back. She did not have a chance to protest, and soon, she was being carried at an impressive clip.

"What's going on?" she managed to ask as Zack ran.

"I don't know, kid. I honestly don't know anymore."

**Word Count: **794

**A/N: (And the rebellion begins…)**

**.x.**

**27. The zenith risen**

Sephiroth couldn't believe his eyes. It was an atrocity! Madness of the cruelest kind. Beyond even his vast comprehension of science and the evils within mankind's hearts. It was not possible…Yet, here he was, staring deep into eyes identical to his own…eyes that belonged to a toddling child, adrift in a tank of mako.

Rage and betrayal filled him. Overwhelmed him. After years of being careful, of refusing to sire offspring in a vain attempt to keep Hojo from harming his kin, here was a child whose DNA was undeniably similar to Sephiroth's own. The madman must have cloned him…or somehow managed to spawn the little creature another way.

He balled his fists, highly tempted to smash the glass and kill the child before it fell prey to same treatment as he. It would be a merciful act. But, despite his fury, Sephiroth found he could not. Perhaps a few months ago, he might have, and without qualm. Now, however, his conscious tugged at him and a tiny voice at the back of his mind cried 'Brother'. This boy…was his brother…He had always wanted a brother when he was young.

Splaying his fingers on the glass, Sephiroth continued to stare at his kin. The boy, barely conscious, slowly lifted his own, little hand and pressed it against his prison wall.

"Sephiroth, this place going to sink in less than ten minutes." called Genesis. "What are you doing…"—the man paused—"…in here." He could hear the heeled boots of his friend echoing against the steel grating as the SOLDIER cautiously approached. This discovery in the Junon Underwater Reactor had definitely thrown a wrench in their escape plans. "Gaia! It looks like you."

"It is because he is my brother," Sephiroth explained. He then pressed a series of numbers, code, into the panel at the tank's base, triggering the draining mechanism.

"Sephiroth."

"What is it?"

"You might want to look over here."

The silver-haired General looked to where Genesis stood, his hands against a wall of glass. There, floating in separate tubes, were two more boys, both appearing barely older than the one he was in the process of rescuing. Feeling the pressure of time as well as the desire to rescue these innocent souls (for some reason unknown to him still), Sephiroth commanded Genesis to fetch Tifa and Aerith.

Genesis hesitated only briefly, as if to ask why, but instead nodded and did as his friend ordered. Time was of the essence and obviously, Sephiroth had to have a plan.

The girls were easy enough to find, for they were only a few rooms over, disabling what remained of the guards. It still amazed him how the young ones fought, especially Tifa. But her stance and style indicated years of training, thus he let her alone, unquestioned. As for Aerith, she was a healer by nature with an affinity for magic. Her casting capabilities rivaled Genesis' own when put in a pinch.

After picking up and tossing the last guard across the room, Genesis told the girls to follow him, and they did. By the time they reached Sephiroth, the three tanks were mostly drained, and the first boy was free, sputtering and shivering in his brother's arms. Briefly, the auburn-haired SOLDIER considered the pair, his eyes clearly portraying what was on his mind. He was remembering the Deepground victims, and how Shelke had been a pitiful, amnesiac suffering from severe mako addiction when he freed her and took her home.

Fortunately, the boy either was not in the tank for very long, or his superior genetics preserved his constitution, for he was able-bodied and rather strong for a child. He clung to Sephiroth's waist as he might have a mother and curled up in the strong arms that gathered him close.

"Aerith," Sephiroth began, about to tell the girl to examine the others for signs of poisoning, when he realized she was already doing just that. Tifa had both boys, neither older than five, on her lap as the flower girl preformed a cursory check of their vitals before casting Ensuna on one. She then gathered the smaller of the two in her arms, while Tifa easily rose with the larger, as if to prove her strength.

"Three minutes, Sephiroth." Genesis shouted, catching the attention of the others. "Vincent set this place to blow, so we need to get out NOW!"

It was a race against the clock, and they had barely any time left and next to no room in their recently "acquired" submarine, when they at last escaped the reactor. Upon docking at a little cove a few miles south of Junon, they disembarked, the rest of the mismatched group rushing their way. Zack, Angeal and Yuffie had been assigned "distraction duty" topside, and were told to flee on their chocobos once Vincent secured the reactor, so that they were not trapped in Junon and arrested.

Upon seeing the newest additions to the group, Zack laughed. All of the anxiety, tension and desperation that had been heavy in the air was shattered, though the gesture proved to aggravate an already agitated Sephiroth.

"Exactly what is so amusing, Zackary?" the silver-haired SOLDIER growled.

"J-just remembering a conversation me and Aerith had a few weeks back," Zack quipped. "She said you'd make pretty kids if you ever decided you wanted them. And well, they're freakin' cute!"

"They're not my children," Sephiroth replied. "They're my brothers…"

The smallest, whom had taken to clinging to his older brother's leg after being placed on the ground, frowned in a manner very much suited to the General, but not for a toddler. One of the others, the biggest, grinned and laughed as well, clearly not understanding why Zack was doing so. And the last, merely sat on Tifa's lap, his head tilted just slightly, his long hair sweeping elegantly over an impassive face.

"Well, whatever they are…they're kids. What exactly are we going to do with them? We're getting into fights and blowing stuff up, not exactly a safe environment for little children."

Sephiroth fell silent. He was uncertain…

_Bring them to me. _Whispered a seductive female voice. _I will take care of them…_

The silver-haired SOLDIER massaged his temples; he could feel a headache coming on.

"We'll discuss plans to relocate the boys later…I need to rest."

The others nodded in understanding, not knowing how little any of them understood.

**Word Count: **1069

**A/N: (Noon. The climax. The zenith. The point in which the sun is at its highest…which means from there, it can only fall.)**

**.x.**

**28. The evening shadows**

Entering Midgar was a dangerous prospect. Already once before had the group breeched the walls of the great and terrible city. Then, the odds had been staggering against success, the chances of reuniting sisters and escaping undetected nil to none. But they had defied those odds and done just that…The odds don't like being defied. Once had been a miracle. To do it a second time, it would take a blessing from the Goddess and the keen approval of fate.

Or, it would require the intervention of a certain delivery boy.

Genesis swore to that that fact since their group of eleven strong should have long since been detected as they prowled the slums. But all eyes were elsewhere, their attention on some elusive scheme known only to them. It was…disconcerting. As was the fact that Sephiroth had refused to part with his little brothers and was now dragging them along on their expedition. Something was not right with him. For the past few days, since the attack on Junon, he'd been acting…off. Distracted. Agitated. Anxious.

Rarely did his instincts lead him astray.

Thus it came as no surprise when, as they emerged onto the upper portion of the Plate, Sephiroth did something utterly bizarre.

He started muttering about 'Mother' and he proceeded to cycle through almost every expression the man was capable of making. Sephiroth then gripped his head and staggered, as if struck by an unseen blow, and briefly, he fell to his knees, crippled by some unknown pain. Never did Sephiroth kneel, and rarely did he falter.

Immediately, Genesis braced himself, which caused a ripple effect in the group. Vincent held his pistol aloft. Angeal and Zack drew twin broadswords. Tifa dropped into a fighting stance, her clawed gloves gleaming menacingly. Yuffie spun Conformer. And Aerith lifted her staff, materia glinting along its length. As for the boys, the young brothers of the great warrior, they went wide-eyed with unspoken awe, weird smiles twitching upon their lips.

"No," Sephiroth groaned. He was fighting a battle with something, someone, and it was inside of his head. Through clenched teeth he snarled incomprehensible strings of syllables and in his fingers he gripped thick clumps of his mane.

Genesis started forwards, only to be intercepted by the toddlers. Silently, they stood between him and their brother, their young bodies shivering with malevolent anticipation. To say the least: It was disturbing.

"Calamity."

The auburn SOLDIER glanced in the direction of the one whom uttered that single, chilling word. Vincent, typically so stoic, was shifting from foot-to-foot, his mouth twisted in a sneer, his crimson eyes gilded with demonic gold.

"I can hear her…" Vincent continued in a voice not quite his own,"I knew it was her wretched scent upon the one named Sephiroth. He is her son. Her chosen. Her vassal." An eerie laugh bubbled up through his throat,"Calamity of the Skies, she has awoken. She calls to her children, her will undeniable. He is gone, foolish mortals. Already he has succumbed to her siren song. It is only a matter of time before he falls!"

"Who in the Goddess' name are you?" hissed Genesis, turning himself in such a way that he could keep one eye on Sephiroth and the other on Vincent. This situation was crumbling, fast.

Grinning wickedly, so as to display every pointed tooth, Vincent crooned,"I am the Harbinger. The collector of Lifestream come world's end. Antagonist to the one known as Calamity of the Skies. Chaos. And within this mortal skin I am bound, but not fully tethered by."

"What—?"

"It means, should I wish it, I could rip apart each and every one of you because it would satisfy a whim." Chaos turned his golden gaze on Sephiroth, whom was curled up in a little ball on the ground, attracting the unwanted attention of spectators. "But observing proves much more…interesting."

"How do we end his pain?" inquired Aerith, her voice surprisingly strong. "Must we find the one called Calamity of the Skies?"

Chaos let out a bark of laughter,"I'd say slay the beast to end his suffering. No good can come of allowing him to fight this losing battle, and Calamity cannot be destroyed, only her vassals."

"You're wrong!" Zack cried.

"No…he's right." All turned to see the speaker, even Chaos. There, standing above Sephiroth like an angel of death, was Strife. He was not clad in his usual attire of uniform black, and neither his hair nor his eyes were covered. Instead, he wore a tattered Second Class uniform, his enormous sword sheathed between bent shoulders. Skin that was cream pale afore, now held a translucent, green sheen…and eyes once of purest mako-blue, were alight with bright, emerald energy.

A low snarl escaped Chaos' lips and in response, Strife offered a wry smile.

"Begone Chaos," Strife commanded in a voice soft yet far from timid. "Let Vincent return."

Golden eyes flashed with hatred,"Traitor." As soon as he said it, he receded, allowing the gunman control. Said gunman shuddered, and pitched forwards a few steps as he fought to regain his balance and maintain consciousness.

Aerith hurried to Vincent's aid, offering him her shoulder to steady himself upon. She then turned her attention to Strife, emerald eyes wide with something akin to both wonder and terror. "Who…who are you? The Planet sings and cries…I…I cannot understand why."

Strife reached up and gripped the pommel of his sword, and with ease he unsheathed the massive blade. Idling briefly, he gazed at his reflection in the metal, those glowing eyes haunted. "I am a simple man," he began. "I do not exist yet I have purpose. I am purpose. I am but a memory. An echo of a life unlived…a distant future." Strife closed his ethereal eyes and twisted the blade so that the point rested between Sephiroth's hunched shoulders.

"In another life…another time…another place…I was Cloud Strife."

Tifa took a step forwards, only to be restrained by Angeal, her expression wrought with betrayal.

"Hero," he continued. "Master swordsman. Savior of the Planet. Slayer of WEAPONs. Champion of Gaia…" Genesis was uncertain what to do. Strife had been so helpful, almost kind from the very beginning. Why would he betray them now? He watched with dread as the boys inched closer to Strife and knelt by the huddled shape of their brother. They seemed awed by the blond instead of afraid, almost as if they were familiar with the strange man. "…and the only man to not only strike down Sephiroth in battle once, but thrice."

Strife lowered the blade, slowly, gently.

"I watched him die, time and time again, savoring each victory for it sated my hatred. This man, I once idolized, I once desired to become…he took everything from me, my family, my home, my friends. He ruined my life." There was a faint waver in his voice,"And because of him, I watched the world end…not just once, but a thousand times over. I do not know how, or why, the Planet did as she did, but she granted me awareness. She revealed to me every possible path fate could have taken, and how all but one would lead to disaster. To world's end."

The point of the blade was cutting into skin now; Genesis could smell the reek of blood. Yet he stood, paralyzed, unable to aid his friend.

"Then I bid her to let me sleep and become part of the Lifestream…" Strife let out a dry bark of laughter. "…I could not continue my existence aware that nothing could have prevented the fall of heroes. Yet here I am. A messenger. A stranger. A ghost." He lifted the blade, poising it to strike. "Thus I attempted to carve a new path…a new fate for those not yet fallen. It grieves me that I could not alter one man's destiny. Sephiroth. After all I have learned, I now know you do not deserve this fate. You do not deserve the suffering." His blade fell, thrusting deep into flesh and bone, eliciting a blood-curdling shriek from the proud SOLDIER.

"I am sorry."

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and the world bled white.

**Word Count: **1361

**A/N: ( Within the shadows lurk what we fear the most. )**

**.x.**

**29. The dwindling dusk**

In a single instant—everything changed.

A blade fell. A gun fired. Two lives were lost. Another was saved. The sky lit bright; then fell dark. Those chosen by fate laid witness to the impossible. And fate…she smiled.

Crippled, unconscious and bleeding in the street was what became of Sephiroth, his state perilously close to death. The brothers whom had gathered all began to wail, not in sorrow but in agony. They too collapsed into a pitiful heap, no injury to be seen. His friends and allies raced to his aid. Many of them wept. Many of them cursed the man that 'delivered' this judgment. And all of them attempted to cast a Cure upon the broken shape on the ground…to no avail.

When it was proclaimed that there was nothing more that could be done, Aerith knelt beside him, her hands folded in prayer. And Genesis fled the scene, seeking aid, his voice pitched high with desperation.

At the same time as these events occurred, Elfe of AVALANCHE rounded the President like a cat does its prey. Her men were closing in, armed and ready to handle the Turks, as the fat man himself crawled out of his expensive car, the engine having failed due to the tampering of a mechanic. Her second-in-command, Sears, laid in wait, watching as his leader prepared to strike.

In a flash of steel, Elfe surged from the shadows, her katana poised for the killing blow. The President gasped and scrambled backwards. His Turks cried out a warning but a second too late, the sound of gunfire shattering the otherwise quiet air.

Then, all went silent, each unaware of the brief flicker of white that flashed through their vision.

The President choked; his eyes wide with pain as he pressed an open palm to his chest. He staggered backwards. Elfe grinned with murderous pride…but the expression soon faltered. Her blade was clean of blood...Slowly, as if to confirm some impossible reality, the young leader of AVALANCHE touched her own chest and traced the torn skin that laid above her breastbone. Warmth gushed into a cupped palm…

As both feared leaders crumpled to the ground, one struggling the other merely sinking to the ground in shock, a shadowed figured lowered his gun. It was Veld, the betrayed leader of the Turks. He appeared to be but an empty shell of the man he used to be, his hair lank and shaggy, his form gaunt. And eyes that were once fierce with the bold fire of leadership, were dim…emotionless…weary. With his lips pressed together in a grim line, he faded away, disappearing into the gloom, aware of the black eyes that watched him.

Tseng, for all of his loyalty to ShinRa, did not pursue the man he admired more than anyone else in the world. Instead, he lowered his gun and lifted his PHS. His Turks responded as quickly as they could, but by the time they freed themselves from AVALANCHE's distraction tactics, it was too late. The President lay dead and Elfe lay dying. But she seemed at peace with that fact. She accepted, nay, embraced death, for if she survived this flesh wound, her end would surely come at the hands of the law.

Elsewhere, as the great leaders of their time faced the cold visage of death, Rufus ShinRa sat in his office, bored. Unsuspecting of AVALANCHE's plans. He merely fed the group information and money; it was not as if he were privy to their plans.

In the same building, merely a few floors below the ShinRa heir's office, Hojo was laughing in his laboratory. Jenova's eyes were lit and scans proved that her mental capacities were functioning. It was happening. Reunion was actually a real phenomenon! He was brilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant! But, his laughter cut off quickly when Jenova's "thoughts" became erratic. Tubes filled with her cells began to hum…then they shattered in a violent spray.

Hojo, the coward he was, ducked beneath a table, his hands clapped over his ears.

The cells…the experiments…even Jenova herself…they were all screaming on a psychic level. Wordlessly, they cried out their agony in unison.

On the other side of the world, the inhabitants of Cosmo Canyon find themselves suffering an inexplicable headache.

Then, came silence. True, and utter silence, if but for an eye blink, as if the inhabitants of the Planet all decided to hold their breath at the same instant.

But like all breaths, it was released.

Sound returned.

Tragedy played out its somber act.

And in the middle of Midgar, where rain had not fallen for over a decade, clouds gathered and released their quenching lifeblood, answering the plea of the last of Gaia's chosen children.

**Word Count: **785

**A/N: (The last of the light fades away, the dusk but a promise that the sun would rise again.)**

**.x.**

**30. The midnight sky**

No pain greater had he ever felt. It was as if his mind were waging war with itself whilst his body was being torn apart. Every muscle wailed in agony and no comprehensive thought dared to form. Amidst this suffering, came a foggy, delirious haze of bittersweet relief. Like a fever, only it dragged him deeper into the swirling depths of unconscious oblivion.

Soon, he felt numb. Cold. Without sensation. His extremities tingled only faintly, and his aching head no longer pulsed with pain, rather, it felt swollen. Heavy. He just wanted to curl up and sleep forever. It was in this desire that came the realization that he was dying. Slowly. Without a fight. But did he honestly wish to return to the cruel world of the living where he would live purposeless? A weapon of war with no battle to fight.

At least this way…he could be at peace with his end…

Tendrils of warmth wrapped around him, cradled him…he swore he heard a soft lullaby somewhere in the blackness of oblivion. The warmth encased him, soothed him…assured him that it was okay to give up. To give in…

"Is this what you want?"

"Strife?" was he actually hearing the man speak?

"I said: Is this what you really want?" like an apparition, the blond appeared in the darkness, possessing an otherworldly glow never seen upon the mortal plane of existence. "To die."

"What I want and what shall happen are two very different things."

"Sephiroth," the man reached forwards but he still stood so far away. "You have the will to determine your fate."

"Jenova…" he began, aware of the monster's hold on him. It was yet another reason why death would be a blessing. He would be free of that…demon inside of his head. Those that he cared for would not have to suffer…

"Do you trust me?"

"Indeed...I do."

"If you wish to live more than anything else, than I shall do my best to rid what remains of Jenova from your person."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"What of you?"

Strife offered a small, wry smile that had become his trademark,"I'll be fine." He then looked away, as if observing something the darkness. "Sephiroth. The cost of what I am offering you is very high, for both of us. But you deserve this chance and I'm the only one who can give it to you. Know that if you choose to return to the Lifestream, you will find your end. Your land of everlasting peace and prosperity. If you choose to live, then what lies ahead of you will be unknown."

For a long while, Sephiroth remained silent. The warmth that cradled him was so alluring…so tempting. It would be so easy to submit to his weaker impulses and drift into the nothingness that lurked beyond this limbo. But he was never one to take the easy way out. There were things he had yet to do and needed to be done. He had to survive. He had no choice.

Thus he offered his hand to Strife, whose sad, haunting eyes were upon him.

"I wish to live," he said.

"Then live."

Sephiroth felt the warmth dissipate and the darkness closed tight upon him like a vice. Quickly, it became hard to breathe…and the pain. Oh Gaia! The pain. It was as if a thunderclap had been unleashed inside of his head. So much sound. So much sensation.

Then, relief.

Cool, cleansing relief—as if he were submerged underwater.

When he next opened his eyes, he found himself laying on the street, rain pouring from the sky. A girl hovered above him, her small hands stroking his face. And then, sirens. Next thing he knew, the girl was being shooed away and his body was lifted upon a gurney, strapped down and wheeled into an ambulance.

His world was in a haze.

Flickering in and out, between consciousness and the world of dreams.

And when Sephiroth finally regained full awareness, he was laying supine on a white cot…in a very white room. An IV trailed from left arm. Nearby, a machine beeped in a rhythmic manner. He was in a hospital. How? He attempted to prop himself up, but a hand placed itself on his chest. He followed the arm with his eyes until he saw the possessor's face.

"Angeal."

The bulky SOLDIER nodded slowly—no more prone to speaking now as he had since his recovery from Degradation. He then pointed across the room, to where a couch and a few chairs were propped together. His friends laid sprawled out on the cushions, asleep. Genesis took it upon himself to consume most of the available space on the couch, but two of Sephiroth's brothers seemed content to share the room they were allotted, and Yuffie had made her home on the couch's back like a contented kitten. On one chair, Zack had one bent knee propped up on the arm, Aerith curled up on his lap. In the other sat Tifa, the oldest of the toddlers sleeping at her feet on a blanket. And Vincent, surprisingly enough, was leaning against the wall, clean cut and dressed in a navy suit, his aristocratic features slack and peaceful.

Sephiroth found himself smiling. All must be well if his friends were here and relaxed.

Unexpectedly, Angeal touched his shoulder, causing the silver-haired SOLDIER to glance again in his direction. He then offered him a hand mirror, of all things. Taking the cheap plastic-and-glass fixture, Sephiroth looked at his reflection, half expecting to see bruises or some such. What he saw, however, surprised him.

"My eyes…"

Instead of the alien green eyes he had grown so accustomed to viewing, he saw eyes of gray, with the faintest circle of blue skirting his pupil.

Sephiroth handed Angeal back the mirror, feeling slightly numb. Had this been what Strife had meant? Had his stripping of Jenova from his system taken Sephiroth's enhancements as well? It took a few minutes to register the information…and a few more to accept it. Hadn't he always wished to be normal? To be human. What could be viewed as a terrible curse could also be seen as a gift, a blessing.

Thus he laid back down and slept. Only time would tell what the future would hold for a super SOLDIER turned mere mortal.

Little did Sephiroth know that elsewhere in the world, a young boy lay in the depths of a coma. It was suspected to be mako poisoning of an extreme degree and the doctors did not expect him to awake. But there was a chance.

There was always a chance.

**Word Count: 1109**

** A/N: (The thing about a midnight sky is that it is never completely dark. Always, there is a splash of stars to give guidance and hope.)**

**fin**


	6. Epilogue

**A/N: **

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except an overactive imagination and a computer.

**Delivery**

**By Catsitta**

**Epilogue**

_Five years later…_

Rumor had it that former General Sephiroth was engaged to be married. The very thought of the proud, ex-SOLDIER watching anyone with doe-eyes and proclaiming his undying love to them made Tifa laugh. Should it be true, she would be happy for him, but Tifa had her doubts. The man was far from romantically inclined, and had once confessed in a drunken stupor (intoxication had proven a rare indulgence for the man whom had once never been able to feel anything from alcohol or other substances) that he had no interest in binding himself to another human being. He wanted his freedom and it easy enough to see how much Sephiroth savored his new, independent life.

He had his three oddly named and peculiar brothers, Loz, Yazoo and Kadaj, whom he cared for like sons. He owned a home in the middle of Gaia forsaken nowhere, to where he retired just last year. And he was an idle, peacetime advisor to the new government—whom he had spent two years helping establish a military. Sephiroth had everything a man of his station could want: Wealth, Freedom and Family. One could also include power, but he had little interest in that. His weakening of body to that of a normal human—a superbly trained and athletically fit individual, but no longer could he be considered a super SOLDIER—had given him a new perspective on "strength", "power" and "influence". At one point Sephiroth had it all, now, he seemed so much happier as he attempted to shed his former identity.

Tifa doubted he would disappear from the limelight completely. Sephiroth was, and would always be, a hero…an icon. Nothing would change that. Much to Genesis' dismay, she found herself adding as an afterthought. The auburn SOLDIER had resigned his station in the military (to the surprise of his peers) in order to pursue fame in the theater. No matter how hard he tried, or how well known his name became, it was unlikely the man would ever surpass Sephiroth as a legend.

For a moment, she found her humor at imagining Genesis' reaction subdued…In her mind's eye she pictured Angeal Hewley. The third in what had been a trio worth writing legends about. His funeral had been last spring…his favorite season. It had been a quiet affair, his passing. At thirty, one would think him to be a vivacious individual with his whole life before him. But, in truth, he had been fading away ever since his abandonment of ShinRa. Not even the healing water gifted by Strife could heal mental wounds, and it was his spirit most injured by Degredation.

He died peacefully and in his sleep, or so the doctor claimed.

It had been little comfort to his friends; among whom, Zack took his passing the hardest.

He had yelled and sobbed, pulled at his hair and fell to his knees in grief. He'd cursed Angeal for being so selfish…for not saying goodbye. And his little fiancé (now wife), proved to be his only anchor through his mourning. Tifa remembered how the vibrant, joyful man had become a somber, depressed shadow of his former self. And how Aerith slowly nursed him back from the brink with her gentle, ever-loving nature. In fact, it was because of her that the rest of the mismatched group kept together, willing to share their strength during this difficult time.

Zack and Aerith were expecting their first child, Tifa noted. Shifting her thoughts from darker days. After all, the future was bright, especially for her.

She was working as a waitress at a bar called Seventh Heaven, at which the new President, Reeve Tuesti, frequented. He was good company, with humanity on his mind rather than profit. He even negotiated true terms of peace with Wutai (where Yuffie occasionally could be found), despite the remaining high tensions and suspicion between the two countries. Tifa knew, deep down, he would bring Midgar back to its former glory, but it would be a beautiful glory rather than a corrupt one that would fester and rot. Which gave her hope. A new job. A new life. A new government…It was all so invigorating and inspiring!

There were days where the burning of Nibelhiem was but a faint and distant memory…

Then there others where it burned hot in her mind. Most often that occurred when Vincent decided to drop by. He didn't do so often, given his personality as well as his newfound career as the President's personal bodyguard (Tifa suspected he still dabbled with the duties of a Turk given his "friendly" association with the former Turks of ShinRa). But when he did stop by, old pains resurfaced upon seeing those stoic, crimson eyes. She knew he did not mean to trudge up hurtful feelings…Vincent would never do anything to hurt her….

"Tifa, stop daydreamin' and take care of that customer."

Startled by the voice of the bartender, Tifa jumped a little. Her thoughts were heavily preoccupied as of late…but that was no excuse to do poorly at her job. Thus, she allowed her swirling thoughts to settle and turned her attention to the newcomer, whom sat at a little table near the door.

"Hello and welcome to Seventh Heaven," she began with a smile. "My name is Tifa and I'll be your server. Is there anything I can get you?"

The customer, whom had been gazing out of the window, glanced up at her, a smile offered in return. He did not look old enough to drink in Tifa's opinion, but before she could voice the fact, a small, niggling part of her brain urged her to stop. To look and listen. A faded, almost forgotten memory—much like Nibelhiem's burning—formed at the back of her mind. It was hazy but familiar. And after a moment, it came into startling clarity.

Blue eyes. Blond hair. A shy, innocent smile.

Before her was a boy from her memory grown into a man. Not the fearsome warrior Strife, whom claimed to be what her friend became. But a shy, quiet young man that she always imagined him to be. How did she know? It was his smile. Yes, definitely Cloud's smile.

"Hello…miss?" the man broke her free of her train of thought. He seemed a little confused, a little flushed. Then again, Tifa had been staring at him for the past minute, silent and wide-eyed.

"Oh. Sorry!"

"It's okay," he gently tugged at his sleeve, as if nervous. "I'm used to people staring. It's the eyes."

His eyes…Tifa squinted, noting that they were bright with mako glow. They were SOLDIER eyes. Had Cloud actually made it into SOLDIER before ShinRa's collapse? Why had he never told her? Did he forget? Did he think her dead when he discovered Nibelhiem was burnt to the ground? So many questions assailed her.

"Um…Miss Tifa…Have we met before?" he asked. Carefully. Quietly. Those eyes of his peering nervously in her direction. "You seem familiar."

She pulled out a chair and sat next to him, suddenly uncaring how it would ignite her boss' temper. And slowly, Tifa began to weave together to the events of the past. Of childhood and beyond. A part of her questioned if this was really Cloud. After all, there could have been another blond, blue-eyed SOLDIER working for ShinRa. It was entirely possible. But there was a girlish—no, womanly—inclination that drove her to believe that this was Cloud. Her Cloud.

Even if he wasn't…it did not matter.

Thus in the common way of things, boy meets girl…and life continues, the future wonderful and unknown.

**Word Count: **1270

**.x.**

**A/N: (And that is the end. Thank you for reading. Please review. And to all whom have been here for the entire journey, I thank you again. **

**For those whom wish to see more reactions to Strife, check out the side story, **Delivery: An Unexpected Detour**.)**


End file.
